"unmatching" poems
Mixing tea, let's say lavender with something as simple as milk
Must sound silly and weird at first glance, as both come with their
own tastes and flavors which seem to not match at all.
Even the most unmatching couple can find bliss, harmony and
perfection in their very relationship, however.
Such as for the tea;
The milk manages to soften, embrace, advertise the taste of lavender
while leaving a pleasant aftertaste which is alike a ghost poorly
detectable, but present nonetheless after all.
With some sugar to sweeten this experience, it becomes divine,
something I would never have thought of, of such an odd couple.
The image of the lavender becomes overdrawn by the milk,
Engaging in a pure, creamy, brief white which reflects light just
in a majestic sense.
This is a taste to become lost in whilst reading a book in the best
of lightings, together with someone who causes your heart to race
and just turn ablaze
~ Umi
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
A blink of words
That can't be said
Or even be written
She is poem of thousand words
She is fierce and gentle
All at once
She's a song
An unending song
She is a sparkle
She is a shine
She is the only thing
That i want to call mine
She is my everyday
And an everynight
She is every morning
And an every twilight
She is all i know
She is all i see
She is a sweet melody
She is an unmatching rhythm
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
You send up clouds of deepest dark despair,
And with my dancing i tried to repair.
While i dance in the light of the coming day.
All of those hearts strings broken will end and fray.
Pull back the cover and bare all to see,
Let my hands cover and retain delicate dignity.
This initimacy that belongs to you and me,
I will protect in every eventuality.
You present all to the world and its busy lover,
But never think of me laying beside you in your cover.
For the cameras flash and beauty bleeds.
And captions raise while gossips feed.
"Who are you to touch an untouchable perfection?"
"Your love corrupts like squalid infection."
"Another man to take the trophy,"
As they **** you in some catastrophy.
A plastic heart that splinters violently,
As he is left in jilted unmatching harmony.
Alone again, you sell your story,
To another scavanger that feeds on memory.
The tale thats told,
Leaves you broken and old.
While the lover lives bold,
In his world of hollywood gold.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:21 PM UTC
It's all about
The attention you get
Not from poetry
That's a bath
of unmatching
Angst
Uncounted syllables
and unrhymed
utterances
Splashing about like
some lower form
of soul
Raisins are needed
to offset
your parched
Appreciation and
foregiveness
that suicide themselves
in that barren
self
you call home
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:59 AM UTC
~
You are the Sun.
Gravitational pull unmatching.
I feel your presence so entirely magnetic.
Caught in your orbit, I'll stay
Constantly I pray. For a Hyperbola;
An un-ending, un-wavering escape
So bright, my eyes can't tolerate
You give me life, but a cancer you create
From the moment I step into your light
I open myself up;
To risk. To death.
To end. My end.
And your perserverance.
~
-S.A.-
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
A blink of words
That can't be said
Or even be written
She is her own poem of thousand words
She is fierce and gentle
All at once
She's a song
An unending, Beautiful song.
She is a sparkle
She is a shine
She is the only thing
That i want to call mine
She is my everyday
And my every night
She is every morning
And my every twilight
She is all i know
She is all i see
She is a sweet melody
She is my unmatching rhythm
She is the firefly dancing in the moonlight
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 11:27 AM UTC
When I was young,
I used to draw.
My lines were a wriggle,
My sketches were a scribble.
My colours were a rebel,
Of unmatching lights.
My sky was red.
My trees were blue.
My grass was violet.
Hanging from the dew.
And then I went on,
And learnt to grow.
They taught me, or they say so,
How to draw.
I draw now.
The lines I draw are straighter now.
The pictures I make are neater now.
The colours I fill are existent now.
'What have I learnt?', I ask myself.
You say you've helped me grown. So.
This is what I learnt. I answer,
I drew them a perfect box.
And painted it black.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
In my white tights, I watched
Dad cry in our kitchen.
He rested on the sink,
Palms sweating and white-knuckled.
We heard Mikey by the door
Ask dad politely
With a defeated whisper
For a comforting pat,
A silent scratch behind old
Folded skin on his Rottweiler ear.
The home phone, chunky and beige,
Laid face down on the wooden counter
Soaked in saline.
Dad was to take Mikey
To the vet in the evening,
Bring him home, cold and cancerous,
And rub his webbed, iced toes
Between index and ring
In a fleeting moment, one last time.
But he never picked up the phone.
It laid dormant, an incessant hum
In Dad’s brain, radiating to the base of his spine.
Instead we each
Kissed Mikey’s brow,
Smushed his extinguishing face
In our palms,
Turning off the lamps.
Mom took off my untwirled tutu,
Putting unmatching pajamas on me.
We forgot to pray, both pirouetting
Thoughts between our fingers
Of what death is like.
I woke up to French toast
And my answer
Served on a blue plastic plate -
A smudge of tear on the rim.
The phone lay on the counter
Crusted in salt, adjacent
To Mikey’s frayed and rusted collar.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
under the dark clouds
let's wear our matching chucks
and run to nowhere
until the rain downpours
but we're not going to hide in a shed
instead, we'll sing our hearts out
then dance to an unmatching beat
in the middle of a desserted road
twirl me around
then end it with a kiss
because we won't care
we're never too old to play in the rain
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
I lie alone in the darkness
I close my eyes
Calling you from a place forsaken
A place full of hate and despise.
With your help
A phoenix from ashes I rise
An eagle with an unmatching shadow
A story that makes no sense shall flow.
You are my bridge
You are my lifeline
You are what that will lead me out of these lies.
You are my weapon
You are my guard dog
No matter what happens
You shall stay by my side.
Even if my throne were to fall
Even if my crown turns to rust
Even if the endless corpses with eyes accusing
Turn to glare at the two of us
By my side you must stay.
This is an order!
You can never leave me!
You must never lie to me.
I will do anything in my power
To keep you serving me.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 2:37 AM UTC
She is a sparkle
She is a shine
She is the only thing
That I want to call mine
She is my everyday
And every night
She is every morning
And every twilight
She is all I know
She is all I see
She is a sweet melody
She is an unmatching rhythm
She is a word
A bunch of words
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 3:05 PM UTC
Prayer tonight, I'm happy today
I have a wicker table
with two unmatching wicker chairs.
I bought a wonderful woven turquoise place mat
for my cats so they won't be quite as messy.
I bought my boyfriend a cheap wicker Fedora.
My son spoke with another Jew
and met someone from my people.
Today was blessedly hot, thank God!
I only worked a little.
Tonight is quiet, and my family is close,
My prayer tonight is happy,
So be it.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Like a window smashed,
waxing accidental cracking of glass;
canyons mapped as light refracts fast,
captured through snapping fragments and gaps.
Hung unintact, procrastinating its shattered collapse,
stress tracks have the last laugh
as paths from impact form webs and traps.
Gilded, a net of gold wraps as fractured attack grasps
before being scattered and blackened to an abstract mass of countless unmatching halves.
Tangled, travelling passions cast into a savagely scratched mask;
mouth closed, asphyxiated, and afraid to gasp.
Apr 4, 2024
Apr 4, 2024 at 12:00 PM UTC