"unkindly" poems
You leave pavements ******
And graves dug but without bodies
Learning tricks of manipulation
You know how to wrap us around
The small of your finger
With bloodshot eyes and a mouth
Full of sweetened poison
You kiss girls and leave them hungry
Foolishly hoping that your touch
Just might heal them
You leave pavements cracked
So we are all left skipping
Hoping to save your back
Isn't love unkindly blind?
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 4:56 PM UTC
I've been to Heaven
and the Earth was right
Heaven is a broken lie
All things must wither and die
Fog and dew on grass
Stew left to boil
And night water mixed
With my homeland soil
His white flowing beard
And slight twinkle in eyes
Tanned arms and firm hands
And a deep, reaching voice
The faintest glow
Somewhat aquiline nose
His weather beaten face
And the strongest of brows
But I've been to heaven
And the Earth was right
Heaven is a broken lie
All things must wither and die
Choked morning with skies bent
With smoke and a sickly stench
And my grandfather's door
Which I didn't open anymore
I couldn't see him wilting
And catch his frame in decay
His cocoa eyes still beaming
As cancer took him away
And wouldn't it be biased
If I say it was untimely
And for such a pure soul
God and nature acted unkindly?
So what had to happen
Has happened and no change
Can be brought forth now
In God's ways so strange
And in the ashes beyond
The trees have taken root
On the windiest of days
Beside unripe fallen fruit
I've been to Heaven
and the Earth is right
Heaven is broken
All things must wither and die
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
To be with you this evening,
rarest of the evenings all,
And listen to the whispering leaves
and to the night bird's call
The silvery moonlight on your face—
To be with you in some still place.
To be with you somewhere within
this evening's mystic shade,
To hear your plans and hopes
and tell you mine, all unafraid
That you'd forget to hold them dear,
When I'm away and you're not here.
To be somewhere alone with you
and watch the myriad stars,
Far golden worlds beyond the noisy
earth's unkindly jars.
As quietly they sail night's sea
Above the world and you and me.
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
I’m here in my mask;
I only wear it on good days,
A mask to hide the scars;
The scars of my life and yours,
Reflecting away my fear;
Ever present yet unseen.
I’m here in my mask;
I wish I wore you more often,
Without expression or feeling;
Undeterred by glaring eyes,
Hiding unkindly shadows;
Silent and passionless.
I’m here in my mask;
Another lonely hidden day,
Sharp yet poker face grey;
Unbetraying to all my secrets,
Shrouded in mystery,
Afraid to feel; to live.
I’m here in my mask;
Yet tire of the truths you hide,
Every-time I wear you;
You fit less comfortably,
Pitted with imperfections;
Cracking like the man beneath.
I’m here in my mask;
But for how much longer?
Dissolving before my eyes;
One day I will take you off,
Lower my guard and reveal;
The mask beneath you.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
A creeper once was planted,
On a cold North-facing wall,
The gardener wanted her to spread,
To cover the bricks and all.
In the weeks that followed,
She strove her best to grow,
But the sun was so unkindly
And the frost so cruel so.
Alas, one day a child at play
Broke off her slender stem.
'It's no use' she cried
'I'll never grow again.'
But she was so courageous,
A brave, hidden spirit she found
And started sending up new shoots,
Directly from the ground.
One day she got her just rewards,
For all her courage and strife,
The gardener came and transplanted her,
To start a brand-new life.
Now on a warm, South-facing wall,
Where the sun kissed her all day
And the gentle breeze caressed her,
She grew and grew away.
She grew so strong and beautiful
And when the tale is told.
Her crown of joy was autumn,
With her leaves tinged red and gold.
Keith Wilson . Windermere UK 2017.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
Sweetest love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me;
But since that I
Must die at last, 'tis best
To use myself in jest
Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
Yesternight the sun went hence,
And yet is here today;
He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor half so short a way:
Then fear not me,
But believe that I shall make
Speedier journeys, since I take
More wings and spurs than he.
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot add another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall!
But come bad chance,
And we join to'it our strength,
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us to'advance.
When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind,
But sigh'st my soul away;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay.
It cannot be
That thou lov'st me, as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
That art the best of me.
Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill;
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil;
But think that we
Are but turn'd aside to sleep;
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.
2.4k
Remember:
That time you put a candle in an egg roll
told me “happy birthday” and you were the
only one singing. I was the only one listening.
Candle lit dinner.
Remember:
That woman we stumbled into
who created the world out of yarn and thread
we wanted the world, but she was asking too much
although not unkindly.
Remember:
“there’s nothing borin abo’ Texas daalin”
oh what was his name- Greenberg? Graham?
he had charm the way Indiana Jones has charm
“Write her a poem”
I tried.
Remember:
That monster bass I caught on a
right-handed pole while you read
Faith Seeking Understanding
snug under your sleeping bag and yellow
volleyball blanket all of it just the bait
but we had both been hooked by that time.
Remember:
What happened next?
the stars had a twinkle and the water had
a shimmer the moon had a glow
but not as much as you. I never told you
I was freezing that night.
I just had a V-neck
****** if I broke the moment though.
Some things are worth suffering through.
Remember:
When I lied to you
about being on vacation
while you were in Honduras
rescuing children who knew how to **** dance”
lying may be a sin, but I think it made God smile
if not, the smile you had waiting could be sung about
for eternity.
Remember:
How we could argue.
Fights are ugly, but I was grotesque
words hit harder than my mother’s fist.
While it went on, words escaped, but the
ones that mattered I’m so sorry crept by unnoticed.
Remember:
The taste of “I Love You”
On your tongue, your lips.
Our unique flavor some parts fire and spice (you)
Some parts simmer and thyme (me)
or vice versa? Maybe a combination.
Remember:
Your goodnight.
Goodnight.
Sweet Dreams.
Sleep Well.
And Be Safe.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 12:41 PM UTC
Harbour lights beckoning
Like saintly haloed will-o-wisps
Annointing ocean mists
Jaded haunting memories
Come surging down with tidal force
And flood all other thoughts:
*"Weep not for me o' mistress,
Ever my first love was the sea
And I love her more than thee"*
How oft' those words have plagued me,
How many moons have traced the sky
To fall from high
Reborn to die
And all in vain to answer why
The sea could never save me?
Weary sea-legs greet the dock,
Where once they brought in stoic stance
An end to fair romance
Your eyes were filled with sadness,
Beacons born of hope and kindness
Blinded by my blindness:
*"Weep not for me o' mistress,
Ever my first love was the sea
And I love her more than thee"*
Stumbling blind from shore to lea,
From tavern, inn and hotel bar,
I search afar
Of ev'ry tar
To ask of all oh where you are
But nowhere can I find thee?
A young man needs adventure,
Yet all I learned from years at sea
Was all I missed of thee
Has time unwound the wounding
Of hasty words once said with zest
With pride and puffed-out chest:
*"Weep not for me o' mistress,
Ever my first love was the sea
And I love her more than thee"*
With all hope driven from me,
I watched a sailor paint a tale
To taint me pale
As he regailed
Of maiden fair and love that failed
And torment that befell thee
Panic wove itself a wreath
Around my heart and pulling tight
It dragged me through the night
From town to shore I stumbled
And there upon the jagged rocks
Espied your ebon locks:
*"Weep not for me o' mistress,
Ever my first love was the sea
And I love her more than thee"*
The beauty wrought within thee,
Noble grace and elegant flair
My maiden fair
Beyond compare
With ***** and seaweed in your hair,
What tragedy befell thee?
Translucent as the water,
You turn with sightless eyes to see
And see but thought of me
The sadness and betrayal
Takes harbour in your haunting face
Now anchored in this place:
*"Weep not for me o' mistress,
Ever my first love was the sea
And I love her more than thee"*
Through years that passed unkindly,
For all my sins of jealous pride
The truth I hide
From thee inside,
My heart and soul with thee reside
And I have always loved thee
The sea I loved has taken
The destined time we had to share
And thee in thy despair
Oh love my love forgive me,
Upon the sea I held so dear
To you alone I swear:
*Weep not for me o' mistress,
Ever my first love was the sea
But my heart belonged to thee*
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 4:08 AM UTC
the imagination wanders.
that's all it does, really--a flâneur
masquerading as inventor
inverse
or escapism.
behind his eyes you're more than what you are
you're pearls and quiet promises he swore he heard
you're emerald or
a lighthouse.
behind his eyes you're more
than all he wanted
the imagination wanders--
his, out-of-town
--and you are left. and less
(but all he wanted, the playful universe reminds you unkindly)
he wanted a decadent contemporary reimagining of a jazz age novel
and you're less
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
My happiness comes from me ask my friends and the world around me blossoming in a spark of crimsony red moon glow on forethought walks through the shivering lenses of percept that trickle down our backs as we enlighten ourselves with all that is in between and unseen.
It is as if our aged limbs were caressed into a symphony of leverages and their shapes. We cannot be cadavers. We are arms of cheer and picture jasper, adolescent googled-eyes gathers with virile fixations on our partners as we prey on the map lines subtly employing our eyes as we dart across each dimple, pimple, freckle, and gently worn rash lines.
These are the dogs of our incessant barking. Idling for sincerity, as actors swiftly press Winter into us while our limbless diction presents our inadequacy Rd upon our ugly and I'll-tempered neighborly-things. Aliens of the afternoon, first floor agony and karmas standard for living in a reduced climate One.
Wearing down the hooves, undulates from Pepperdine mark trails with breaking breads and twigs and bones. Undulates from another world, behoofed and bemoved, curdling their sappy reselling a of drat and unkindly remarks. And we have begun to wonder when evolution will kick-in. When will the military come for them at the doors and vacate is all from our nontoxic lie-shrouded apartment complexes, condos, and cabins. Slaughter numbers of letters and integers right out in the street; loonies in the town square and the moose are crying.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
Sweetest love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me;
But since that I
Must die at last, 'tis best
To use myself in jest
Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
Yesternight the sun went hence,
And yet is here today;
He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor half so short a way:
Then fear not me,
But believe that I shall make
Speedier journeys, since I take
More wings and spurs than he.
O how feeble is man's power,
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot add another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall!
But come bad chance,
And we join to'it our strength,
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us to'advance.
When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind,
But sigh'st my soul away;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay.
It cannot be
That thou lov'st me, as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
That art the best of me.
Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill;
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil;
But think that we
Are but turn'd aside to sleep;
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.
1.6k
I didn't learn about being beautiful from supermodels walking down the runway. I didn't learn about being beautiful from glamorous movie stars or musicians. I didn't even learn about being beautiful from the pretty girls at my school. No. I learned about beauty from my best friends and the freckles on their cheeks. I learned about beauty from the scars and imperfections they hated. I learned about beauty by watching them believe they aren’t.
I didn't learn about being intelligent in school. I didn't learn about being intelligent from some documentary I watched or book I read. I didn’t learn about being intelligent from studying day and night. No. I learned about being smart from my brother. I learned about being intelligent when I watched him stress for four years about college. I learned about being intelligent by helping him cram for tons of tests and quizzes and celebrating his success. I learned about being intelligent listening to his sobs when he received a full ride to his dream college.
I didn’t learn about being kind from some after-school special. I didn’t learn about being kind from watching my parents help being at the supermarket. I didn’t even learn about being kind from being treated so unkindly. No. I learned about being kind from my band director. I learned about being kind when I sat in her office with tears permanently stained on my cheeks and she just accepted my tears. I learned about being kind when she let me sleep on her shoulder for two hours on a bus. I learned about being kind when she gave me the coat off her back because I didn’t have one.
I didn’t learn about being courageous from daredevils on the news. I didn’t learn about being courageous from gutsy characters in books or on television. I didn’t learn about being courageous from teens who thought yelling at a teacher for no reason meant courage. No. I learned about being courageous from the people I saw stand up for themselves and for others no matter where it may be. I learned about being courageous from the people who risked their lives to save somebody they didn’t know. I learned about being courageous from the men and women who defended our country everyday, sometimes with nothing to show for it.
I've learned about beauty, intelligence, kindness, and courage throughout the years. From my best friends, my brother, band director, or perfect strangers. I didn’t learn about those things through mainstream ways that you find crammed down your throat.
You don't have to learn how to be you through people you don't know. Take a step back and look at those you do, because I'm sure it'll mean more to you when you start seeing those qualities in yourself.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
I've always believed that I needed you,
That I had to be validated,
That parentless children could only be the sum of their genes. That my two shadows foresaw my only hope: a shadow myself. She, a mother who cant love, shown me her care recently.
But I no longer needed it.
I no longer craved it.
Her words though sweet - no longer held so much meaning.
Because I've met someone whose teaching me to validate myself.
To not speak so unkindly about who I am.
They tell me that I'm not a monster, and am special.
I've never felt more free or happier.
You, though someone I love,
cannot be my reason for living.
for you've proven untrustworthy,
In your lies and how my time is unimportant to you.
And so I shall learn to love myself.
I no longer need to attain that which is unattainable.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 10:01 AM UTC
Your laughing eyes filled up my cup of yore
When summer flowed in endless streams, yet when
Sure-footed feet were swept out from the shore
Then time unkindly turned our now to then.
You laughed and yet your eyes revealed in you
Deep secrets hidden down within the deep
Blue oceans of your soul, that guard the blue
Keep of your moated castle where you keep
Those inner thoughts you dare not share and those
Which weave a spell as tho' some haggard witch,
Nose misshapen, had snorted from her nose
Rich veins of silver bound to make her rich.
Long not for treasured silence e'er life long,
Song gifts the world and those who gift their song.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 4:26 AM UTC
Having him near and not touching
Was decidedly tough.
In the end I realized that loving him
Was just not enough.
He liked making love and exploring
The bodies we had
But not enough to fall in love with me
And that was sad.
I knew this heart-pounding affair was
Just for a few days.
And while I was falling very hard, he
Would son walk away.
He mumbled something one time
About being a free spirit
But in those moments I didn’t know
What to do with it.
It was not information I could take
And put someplace real.
It was a kind of romantic connection
That I could not feel.
It didn’t fit with the movies and books
And the fairy tales.
It didn’t end with a swell of music.
It ended with sad wails.
It made no sense at all to me then
How anyone could be
A totally involved ****** machine
And act so shallowly.
How can someone throw themselves
Into such wild action
And have it not mean more than just
Physical satisfaction?
He was the first, there were more.
This kind of guy shines,
And knows how to attract the fools
With attitudes like mine;
People who persuade themselves
To proceed blindly
When these one-night lotharios
Treat lovers unkindly.
Of course, it was not love, I know,
Not even for me.
It was just something called lust
That captivated me.
A gorgeous body and talented talk
Easily woos youth
With so much seduction I would not
Look hard for the truth.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
You thought I treated you unkindly
Though I gave my heart to you
My love was real and gentle
Now my love is gone that's true
It is you that broke our love
Our friendship you refused
I will never forgive you for this
I regret that I forgave you
Letting you feel satisfied
It's you that I hate now
The one I truly despise
I now hate you so deeply
I will never forgive you again
Sadly I love you
Though I hate you
With all my heart
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 3:47 AM UTC
While I crossed the road
In the middle of a crowded village
I saw an aborgine tear
Falling from her crimson eyes
She carried a *** of water
Above her grey head
She looked at me
While leaving a shop nearby
The dweller stared at her
Walking away from him
He looked so pathetic
He had feelings for her
How does she feed her family?
How could she beat her poverty?
How blessed we are but unkindly
I'm too, helpless
Please forgive me
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
This debilitating cynicism leaves me throwing fists,
blindly, unkindly I deliberately hide so that you cant find me.
Unmentionable, the seeking of attention that we require,
and I impede my own desires with a silent fear of fire.
Hold me higher than your loved ones,
mask my bad intentions.
I wish I was as pure as my lustless suggestions.
You try to fall, I’ll hold you back.
I surround myself with your artifacts.
My mind wanders with a sense of urgency.
I watched you fade away from me.
I discreetly try to imbibe the origins of your resentment.
Above me you reside as I strive for mere acceptance.
Escaping dignity, I ruined the bridges I built,
and bruised by your excuses I melancholicly wilt,
condemned by a guilt that I can’t abandon, My love for you is more than a fandom.
I’ve derobed your more times with my eyes than you have with your paws,
Our time together was macabre, Showing all of our flaws.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
about
a year ago the doctors ordered me to return,
put down the tablet, cease driving, stay seated,
you a skinny hair from dying, the drop dead
unkindly kind, come back to the city, there’s
an operating table Resy~reserved just for you,
the menu we will decide, two or three courses,
but for
the summering on your sheltering isle, where the
lapping waves sounds of the sound, the greenery
calming befuddles your senses is ended, the congress
of animals too have ordered your dispatch back to
the hubbub of pizza parlors, nail salons & bodegas,
and
we will slice and dice, drawn up plans to redirect
the arteries and veins that you’ve spent good money,
lazy years clogging & ******* sending you back after
you’re in fighting trim, and and recommence dialogus
with
the sun, sky, animals, the water and the waves, and
write of peace of mind, knowing that your body, too,
is
at peace, but not at rest, and let the writing begin
again, with a refreshed perspective, and re-greet
old friends, Hafiz and Whitman, who were left
behind in a hasty departure, your retreat is ended
and now, a new re-treating of the soul, to match a
newly refreshed body
postscript:
*where is shelter? why, within and without…both needed,
in happy juxtaposition*…
May 19, 2024
May 19, 2024 at 5:00 PM UTC
In her pram which is a trolley
she carries a baby, which is really
the life that she has in old carrier bags
and a holdall which carries
nothing.
She lives in her dream of
french fries,scones and cream,
kindly people would pass her
and offer some coin,
she accepted,quite gracefully
fully aware that dreaming or not
she needed her pennies to buy her a ***
of London Dry Gin.
She spoke in third person as
if she was not there at all,
a bit like the holdall,
empty.
No faces to face the faces that faced her
she hid in the barbed wire of unkindly
stares
where the world couldn't find her
and her baby was safe in
the bags in the pram.
Life carries on until it is gone
and then carries on a bit more,
somewhere in between
I bet you have seen her
perhaps
you have been her.
The queen of the street
with jewels on her feet
which are
tatty old shoes
but she lives in her dream
that way
she don't lose.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
they want to talk like home is a remembrance for the future
snapping songs through eyes like they're real
when their boots know they'll sleep unkindly
as whiskey just drinks
and we don't
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 1:01 PM UTC
*And even if the sky
Were to fall flat
On my head,
I will never speak unkindly!
This is just who I am,
I feel too much,
My heart doesn't walk around
Blindly!
I've even sympathised
With those who are responsible
For my heart being broken,
I've blamed their bad behavior
On misguidance,
Or unresolved issues of their own,
Which they may have
That are yet to be awoken.
I over empathise and forgive -
I'm a softy, I can't help it!
I guess I know just how it feels
To be treated like a misfit.
Mamma always told me ...
"If you can't say something nice,
Then don't say anything at all!"
Unable to remain silent,
I chose to speak kindly,
Regardless of how often
I was repeatedly pushed to fall.
People don't always think
Before they act,
I've learnt this all too well!
The way I see it,
People's mistreatment of others
Is a reflection of their own time spent
In mental-hell!
I think I believe this,
It is all that keeps me sane,
At the end of the day,
If I let it get to me,
I only have myself to blame!
Life is too short
To be unkind,
Love is sweeter
And much more rewarding -
It nourishes the heart,
The body,
The soul
And the mind!
By Lady R.F. (C)2017*
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
The bartendress drags the rag across the counter, it reeks of sour beer with a hint of bar lime.
The sign that burns with the words that say 'open' never says closed
it burns with welcomes to passersby til it dies.
Amidst the shuffling of feet, clinking of glasses and the same old bar tunes
there is a drone of conversation.
Some cheers to life with large cliques in ignorant bliss,
while others drink alone and realize its ignorance they miss.
Its soul displacement every night;
emptying bottles to fit more of your soul in through the bottles hole.
And the ***** likes to eat it'll inhale your salary if you let it.
Just so you can wake up and regret it.
Saying if i didn't feel ****** before i do now, time for a drink.
And any anonymous could tell you
the cycle can happen to anyone anonymously,
and you'll know its honesty.
So of course the drunks drink they have the coldest of sobering moments.
Like realizing the man in the mirror is their sole opponent.
Like conceding to themselves that the bottles their main component.
Broken down without it so they just continue to hold it.
The drunks don't find grace and can forget their own face,
The reflection of themselves is a stranger who glares unkindly and too real to ignore.
The moves they make heed no direction desired by minds
Instead they seek fuel for the fire of thee addiction.
Such real affliction.
It can become stranger the fiction
and is always bound to cause friction.
Cause a drunk looks for friends but will still drink alone freely
Pass the bottle to themselves and call it drinking in good company.
Theirs no room for friends and family at the bottom of an empty glass
and alas,
its a one man car
and a one way ride to being left on the side
of most things proved positive.
So if you run from your problems the bottle is no place to hide,
cause you can drain a whole bottle, but it can trap you inside.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
Her parents are rowing.
Alice hides in a door way
of the semi-dark passage,
pressing her back against
the door's old wood.
His baritone bark,
her mother's soprano screech,
words reaching beyond
walls hold and depth.
She closes her eyes
against the dimness
and half light,
to hear more or better.
She has evaded
the nanny's search,
ignored the siren's voice,
had hidden and smiled.
The row goes on,
voices higher,
her ears catch at sounds
that float her way.
Far off,
she hears the nanny's voice
grow more desperate
in the morning search.
She misses
her mother's touch and hold,
misses the bedtime
reads and kisses,
instead,
the nanny bids her goodnight
and shuts out the light
with neither kiss or hold
or any caress
as her mother gave.
Silence greets her ears;
the row has ceased.
The semi-dark
embraces her unkindly,
her closed eyes bring
no comfort to her mind.
A bang and slam,
the row restarts,
Alice opens her eyes
to the semi-dark,
the vibrating voice
of her father's bark.
A slither of light appears
from the passageway beyond,
one walks slow
along the carpet's length,
footsteps soft
against the rowing sounds.
The thin maid appears,
stands gawking,
hands red and thin
by her narrow sides.
What you doing here?
Alice shrugs.
Come, the maid says,
this is no place
for tender ears to wait.
Alice hesitates,
then, taking
the proffered hand
walks along the semi-dark,
the voices
like the drowned
upon the sea,
then off along
the lower regions of the house,
where sounds don't reach
so wild, for one such as she,
a little child.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:10 AM UTC