Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"untainted" poems
I'm something borrowed, from he before him, and him before he, You're something new, untouched, untainted by mine hands or hers, You're not the old, for I am new, to you too, I shall't be blue, for I am no longer 'borrowed' by you, the 'new,' out with the old, say you,
0
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
Something Borrowed
Many have come to pry me open. Many have come asking for the key. Offering promises that the doubt would lessen, flaunting their oaths as currency. Plenty have assured that they're not like the others. They promised that their words were forged in steel. They had come with nothing else except to offer, their ears and support just so to seal the deal. "Forgive me", I'd say... I am still a tad apprehensive. But I do feel the need to speak... I do long for ears attentive, Not the ones which are attached to mouths that easily leak. I know that there are such ears... Hard to find but they're definitely there. They'd be ready to catch my tears, more than willing to show concern and care... Yours seem rather reliable... That much I see. They've come with intentions seemingly untainted and kind. Don't suppose they'd take my words ever so lightly. They won't lap up my secrets with treachery in mind. Again I find myself here at the same spot. About to hand over the duplicate key. This familiar leap I hope you'd have me caught. Please don't give away my secrets for free...
0
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
Leap of Faith
Sweet gentle daughter of dreaming blue eyes Reflecting visions from some distant sphere; Untainted by nightmares of icy fear, Nor saddened yet by fate's mocking disguise. Unopened book of fickle tomorrow, Not certain of how future may unfold, With hours of lead or hours of molten gold; Unenlightened yet by unknown sorrow. Sands rush through the hourglass of wasted years, While breaking our young hearts with shattered dreams. The clock of life wrings disappointed tears, Unhampered by our plans and clever schemes. Beware grim reaper swinging ***** blade Who mocks thee as childhood days slowly fade. ~Hilda~
0
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Sonnet X: Sweet Gentle Daughter of Dreaming Blue Eyes
How dull the wretch, whose philosophic mind Disdains the pleasures of fantastic kind; Whose prosy thoughts the joys of life exclude, And wreck the solace of the poet's mood! Young Zeno, practis'd in the Stoic's art, Rejects the language of the glowing heart; Dissolves sweet Nature to a mess of laws; Condemns th' effect whilst looking for the cause; Freezes poor Ovid in an iced review, And sneers because his fables are untrue! In search of hope the hopeful zealot goes, But all the sadder tums, the more he knows! Stay! Vandal sophist, whose deep lore would blast The grateful legends of the storied past; Whose tongue in censure flays th' embellish'd page, And scorns the comforts of a dreary age: Wouldst strip the foliage from the vital bough Till all men grow as wisely dull as thou? Happy the man whose fresh, untainted eye Discerns a Pantheon in the spangled sky; Finds sylphs and dryads in the waving trees, And spies soft Notus in the southern breeze For whom the stream a cheering carol sings, While reedy music by the fountain rings; To whom the waves a Nereid tale confide Till friendly presence fills the rising tide. Happy is he, who void of learning's woes, Th' ethereal life of bodied Nature knows; I scorn the sage that tells me it but seems, And flout his gravity in sunlight dreams!
0
7.9k
Fact and Fancy
*break astonishment at perception of a third-world child making it up that totem-pole amidst paltry conditions even beyond the half-way mark* 1. a standing man in silent message and the woman in red with thin-sling shoulder-bag holding lipstick, weekly-ticket and purse oh, how she frightens honchos out their skull draped round her sister's head shroud eternal coughing sore 2. grannies recount lively griot-tales where hope is never barren young boys play in swamped dirt-trails drawing absent father-figures in the sand the wind has carried them off to mines deep in the crust of earth's ire adolescent future sits on labour-farms where keen spirit is dulled with worthless hops keeps the sly farmer happy and he tells them the fruit is free yet they've already paid for it manifold when she reaches twenty she will have at least two kids whose lives lie in the granny's luxury while she runs off to the golden city-lites to jump through higher hoops for ****** spoils all cheapened by long-term neglect 3. there lies hope unlost in every girl-child who goes to school who finds encouragement from words kindly given if but from a stranger *no hand-me-outs no forlorn begging* she... the empowered mother of boys will help them to grow into young men of such sensibility as to keep their hands to deeds of honour who, in turn become fine fathers to daughters they love and cherish raise to be luminary *each step up from that totem-pole such a steep climb strengthens invisible wings and unworldly rewards and when final rung is reached heralds untainted take-offffffff*...... S T,  27 aug
0
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
totem-pole
*break astonishment at perception of a third-world child making it up that totem-pole amidst paltry conditions even beyond the half-way mark* 1. a standing man in silent message and the woman in red with thin-sling shoulder-bag holding lipstick, weekly-ticket and purse oh, how she frightens honchos out their skull draped round her sister's head shroud eternal coughing sore 2. grannies recount lively griot-tales where hope is never barren young boys play in swamped dirt-trails drawing absent father-figures in the sand the wind has carried them off to mines deep in the crust of earth's ire adolescent future sits on labour-farms where keen spirit is dulled with worthless hops keeps the sly farmer happy and he tells them the fruit is free yet they've already paid for it manifold when she reaches twenty she will have at least two kids whose lives lie in the granny's luxury while she runs off to the golden city-lites to jump through higher hoops for ****** spoils all cheapened by long-term neglect 3. there lies hope unlost in every girl-child who goes to school who finds encouragement from words kindly given if but from a stranger *no hand-me-outs no forlorn begging* she... the empowered mother of boys will help them to grow into young men of such sensibility as to keep their hands to deeds of honour who, in turn become fine fathers to daughters they love and cherish raise to be luminary *each step up from that totem-pole such a steep climb strengthens invisible wings and unworldly rewards and when final rung is reached heralds untainted take-offffffff*...... S T,  27 aug
Continue reading...
71
In lonely moments I stroll the waning memories when love pure smiled blissfully deep within a fawning heart a wistful melody arises untainted like a steaming enslaved passion                          breathlessly released                               unrestrained,..                                    evident                     as the pressed and dried flowers           cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,                          bookmarks of the heart                          traces of the wild bouquets                          that often soothingly caress’d                          the energizing tingles                            inflaming a tantalizing touch                          the yearning  empty voids                          feverishly undressed,                          traced in the hidden sands                          of unexplored oceans..                                                   though time and distance make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder, memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,                             as gentle feather’d touch                          the evanescent sunset afterglow                          where the earth and sky align                          the dimming of the day          loving can heal the poet’s bleeding words, loving can mend your soul ―                          the perennial dawning of an                          unpromised new day                          will someday come again         bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals               flourishing in the meadow of my heart                  Someone you used to know
0
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
In the meadow of my heart
In lonely moments I stroll the waning memories when love pure smiled blissfully deep within a fawning heart a wistful melody arises untainted like a steaming enslaved passion                          breathlessly released                               unrestrained,..                                    evident                     as the pressed and dried flowers           cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,                          bookmarks of the heart                          traces of the wild bouquets                          that often soothingly caress’d                          the energizing tingles                            inflaming a tantalizing touch                          the yearning  empty voids                          feverishly undressed,                          traced in the hidden sands                          of unexplored oceans..                                                   though time and distance make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder, memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,                             as gentle feather’d touch                          the evanescent sunset afterglow                          where the earth and sky align                          the dimming of the day          loving can heal the poet’s bleeding words, loving can mend your soul ―                          the perennial dawning of an                          unpromised new day                          will someday come again         bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals               flourishing in the meadow of my heart                  Someone you used to know
Continue reading...
37
I stand alone, the ghosts of my parents lingering in my heart Remembering the death the change the upheaval of life how it was The remains of my soul splinter and crack As I remember the terrible deeds that a desperate girl committed. ~ I, that girl, remember humanity as it was; whole untainted pure But the fear and pain overcome and all reason leaves Forged into iron and steel that bleeds tears ~ "It hurts so much," I whispered "I just want to be whole and normal." I'd do anything to fix myself Even if it meant destroying my humanity ~ I found I was afraid to leave this world For in all of its horror and evil Beauty still existed amidst the pain And I wanted to live and laugh and feel I wanted to experience and love and dream But it was all ripped away that fateful night Lost and destroyed, out of sight ~ But then a gentle woman appeared And smiled at me with kind eyes With the touch of a hand I was set free Finally able to just be me I started to cry from the absence of pain And I knew the world for me would change A chance to live a life once more No thought to what came before ~ I was able to touch and dance and fly Dream and sing and touch the sky I'll start again and my story I'll tell And proudly wear the scars I earned well. -Esther L. Krenzin- -Roguesong-
0
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
The Broken Warrior
The blazing eye of Dawn is all to fools: those who see the joy in Light expressed as Light, but brightness also graces Night. Her veil parted, the black curtain giving way to shades of blue and gold, Her rapturous embrace inspiring eyes beholden. *Planted in Her garden, neighboring eaves rustling in their trembling eagerness to share their leaves!* For in Her realm eternal, flawless clay of earth and blade of grass stretch forth to feel the loving light of their supernal Goddess! Her joy ran rampant through my boughs, my swaying branches spreading wide to grasp the rays of her horizon -- *With love untainted as a child's, so boundless as my selfless roots cried out to sing her praises soundless!* No dalliance ever felt before complete until this blessed revelation - this, Her holy emanation, warmed my heart, annulled my restless reason: She was every mother: deepest love in understanding all that came of Her, enclosing us within the circular. *She beckoned but a moment by Her brilliance; best, lest I uprooted trunk and earth to shade Her manifest.*
0
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 5:14 PM UTC
In the Garden of the Goddess
Grow organic gardens, untainted seeds, saved and collected plow the dirt, rich red earth, autumn's bountiful birth food pure and wild, to eat - a way of life! we cannot thrive in unearthly soils in their poisonous, GMO field of spoils awaken from our sleeping denials autism, sickness born in the chemical fields all the killing of you and I
0
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
The GMO field of spoils
You're sunshine. Pure, untainted sunshine. And you don't see it. You look around, You laugh, The best laugh I've ever heard. I can't help but smile When I see your head fall back And your mouth drop open And your whole body shake While your laughter fills the air. You still don't know You're sunshine. You give the warmest, Most reassuring hugs. You always have a little Smile on your face. I like seeing that little smile Turn into one so wide It transforms into that laugh. I do the same just by watching you. Seeing you happy makes it hard To understand why you don't know That you're sunshine. You walk into the room And everyone turns to you Because they feel your warmth Even if you can't. They see the light Even if they don't realize it. I realize it. The others that have fallen for you Realize it as well. We see the life Even when you don't. Because you're sunshine.
0
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
You're Sunshine
she sat on a driftwood throne at her feet lay the ruins of a stone man her hair a wild world of winds draws you into her hurricane eyes her lip a forest of meanings tender and soft a single loose tear like a wild horse run free she sat on a driftwood throne in all her glory sun and salt water cadence to the living breathing dream song of existence untainted and now another song intrudes one of loves lionhearted and bold seafarer's son come of age come seeking courtship of her soft hand to be bound in the silken desire's both hot and sweet and the dark ones such shy girl dare not speak he brushes away the sand from her soft thigh and within his mind romances such sweet tender spot with a reign of kisses but just then she arose graceful like the soft beatings of dove's wing and emerging from the veil of his minds fanciful dreams she laid before him her sandpaper eyes so intense that summer sounds like children at play and such soothing tones could not hide her behind he withdraws still no more than a child in her eyes she desires a stronger, a true love one that is not a fleeting fancy dream one of a man who can speak his heart the sand had invaded her driftwood throne so into the dusk she sauntered slowly with graceful flow trailing his eyes behind her like glories of wishes like worshiping doves for such beauties perfection he will return some day a man once he has learned
0
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
driftwood throne
sometimes the words just don't come the thoughts and feelings are there untainted emotions so raw they cannot be touched so fragile do they seem, that the slightest contact would shatter them and scatter them to the four corners of my very soul this is what really lies within me this is what I cannot bring myself to share all history has been stripped and I am left with only me this is the part of me that no one knows this is whats left this is the price I dare not pay
0
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 7:22 PM UTC
This is what is left
Far away in the castle, Your revered echelon, Your pure majestic skin, And your untainted generous heart, Have become the most appealing living things I've ever seen, Royal blood and Highness' sweetheart, But I'm just a wretched citizen, Routinely as a blacksmith, Single bread and rocking chair, Destitution and poverty-stricken, I have never been complaining the way the God treats me, To me it is just enough to get to see your beauty and hearty at the same time, The folks were saying that you are the descending angel, Spreading your wings over the entire people's heart, Sending the warmth with a hug, Delivering the happiness with a deed, They feel safe, I feel safe too, But feel sad a little, For just because I'm a blacksmith.
0
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Blacksmith
I used to b happy . Is like saying I used to breathe . When did I decide to stop breathing . The sweet , soft , air . When did I decide it was ok to let a man determine my happiness . When did I stop looking at the sky & start Staring at the ground . When did I stop looking in the mirror ? When did life become a headache instead of a blessing . I was overcome w this obsession to prove my pure , untainted love to u. I was no longer worried about me . Simply consumed w intoxicating , dangerous thoughts of loving u . But our love is no longer pure , now it's like a dying rose . Dry , dark , hard . Yet still beautiful . Some people save their dead roses . Right ?
0
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
Dead Roses
Beauty and ugliness are not in the eye,but in the mind; Sense is coordinated by the mind. Discrimination is the tool of mind, The eye sees what mind wants to be seen. To awaken the world and the life within and to apprehend the wisdom of light, The seeker must see with vision untainted by the memory.
0
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
A third eye
She's got that air of innocence about her Untouched, untainted Draws all the bad boys in. The bad boys? You know the ones, Motorcycles and leather jackets, Cigarettes and black ink tattoos. And even worse than that A fickle charm they possess A good girl they desire, in a pure oh so white dress. She swears she's not naive - I know better than that, she says. The motorcycle stops outside her house. The leather jacket rings the doorbell The black ink reaches for her face And nothing happens. But he held her gaze for the longest time.
0
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
Motorcycles & Leather Jackets
every starry night i will be embraced in your arms around your heartbeat my sweet dream sound your warmth my fireplace and your smile be my respite breeze in summer days your hands in mine intertwined in distress and  in ease staying around or walking apart the love shall remain untainted like a pearl inside the oyster shell's heart forever protected by the waves it stays it stays it will forever be that way even when you're gone far southern trails and i'm still at northern terrains separated by cliffs and mountains still be linked by roads and rails and airplanes i'll send you sweet dreams by the fireflies and little pink hearts from the cyber space lanes know that i always wish you well and the love forever stays inside
0
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
the oyster shell
This is because of you the night falls as if slain by the sun, entwined are we.the salvation for which you sacrifice yourself flares once, then dies,devoured by a velvet ebon nothingness.all hope must surely perish. your soul thrives no more.how could you tear us asunder?shadows surround us, crying,save us from ourselves. Around, all around, the sinister creatures gather.My dread grows as the Dark One's touch falls against my naked soul.It severs me, and darkly my essence drips to the wicked earth that is my prison.In my madness I call your name while my doom takes my hand.Now alone, my cascade of tears falls upon bleeding eyes. what have you ruined?a dark black shadowy cloud of betrayal as affections seep.once we savored paradise,untainted and wide-eyed,but your desire soured.a vengeful pool of bitterness -memories follow pain, follow hate,love bled dry.in a storm of vengeance,i still love you.
0
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 7:05 AM UTC
gothic
Ignorance is bliss Feeling light and free of darkness Merely floating atop of an unknown abyss Yet never seeing the hands that keep you floating Smiling without a doubt Walking with your head in the clouds Unaware of a dark shroud Suppressed by unnoticed hands Bathed with an innocent light Finding stars in a starless night Creating miracles with a smile just as bright And with hands never seen You stand untainted by the dark A place so sacred and yearned for You hold one of the last sparks For these ***** and hidden hands will fight the war For you To protect you To shield that spark Ignorance is bliss At the cost of another’s happiness
0
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
Ignorance is Bliss
Kissed by God she a child of love, untainted by ways of man. In the world of the dying, she spreads her love, replenishing broken hearts. In her alluring eyes, you can gaze at the universe as it unfolds. With a ballet of stars along the milky-way. Singing life's song as the mystery fades Joined by those who sleep in hope Revived as they come to know. life is love
0
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
Rebirth
i wish i could have that sweet 16 kind of romance. kisses that are ardent and chaste not forced, feeling like a mouthful of nails hugs that are comforting and soft instead of repulsive, a cage i violently try to break free of hands that are holding mine, a loving reminder and consistent warmth not calloused extremities stealing me by the wrist towards my demise words that are gentle and sincere (beautiful, talented, queen), instead of ones described only as ***** ******* ***** ***** intimacy that arrives only if and when i'm ready, youthful and gentle not ****** onto me years before sweet 16, hardly intimate but instead bluntly illicit bodies (especially mine) that are unscarred, untainted, unused not the opposite, crusted in an inscrutable filth impossible to remove love that is fun and bright, something I can boast to all my friends not a sickening attraction shrouded in the depths of my mind, only to see the light through poetry written in the early hours... i wish, i wish, i wish. i wish i could have that sweet 16 kind of romance! but i don't. wishes are just flimsy desires; a tear-soaked plead to the void of night, words on a poem no one may care to read, something i say as i blow out the candles. hopeful and yet, hopeless. so, i'm still 16. and at least my favorite dessert is sweet. but the romance? ha! my romance is dead; burnt to ashes, like a delicate rose bathed in kerosene and set alight by the burning match of a devil's lust.
0
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 7:16 AM UTC
Sweet and 16
To be truly colorblind, (and I mean truly blind to color), I see as a heavenly gift. To never know complexity, the world's beauties remain untainted. The masses would say I am missing out, but ignorance is bliss. Simplicity is a heavenly gift to me.
0
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 3:15 AM UTC
Colorblind
It is funny how we can get to be ourselves with strangers Our complete truest version of us No guards up and no painted window panes To be able to stare through, untainted reflections Our deep dark secrets and or biggest fears To confess them in rapid succession And not feel the need to hold back It is funny, how we need to hide away ourselves From the ones who love and know us best Constantly dancing around the fullest truth of truths Strangers don't know us, nor do they probably even care The obligatory third party Just sit and listen Let the masks drop, and the honestly flourish Online profiles make for free therapy And self awareness
0
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC
Ourselves