"upbeat" poems
~
*O Painter
with thy own eye
would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
and blemishes true
Load thy brush
with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
bethought, in deep
With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
of deep forest green
O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
and the indigo moon.
Paint me as i standeth,
prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might
Paint me in the optimistic
silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal
O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
in a rainy drizzle
Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken
Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon
O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
of a quite quaint butterfly
Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.
Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******
Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;
Study mine own dry sorrow
in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.
O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print
Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too*
~
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
Just a single thought of you shakes my very being.
Sending tremors straight down to my core.
This feeling pulsing and echoing throughout my veins.
Straight to my lungs, making it so hard to breathe.
Your laugh, has me trembling, reminiscent of a choir.
Your personality, kindhearted, sweet, and comical.
Your accent, melting me like ice cream on a hot summer day.
Just a single thought of you shakes my very being.
Sending tremors straight down to my core.
This feeling pulsing and echoing throughout my veins.
Straight to my heart, pumping fast as if on caffeine.
Your presence, calming, laid-back, relatable.
Your demanour, silly, upbeat, adorable.
Your beauty, an unparalleled charm in this world of billions.
Just a single thought of you shakes my very being.
Sending tremors straight down to my core.
This feeling pulsing and echoing throughout my veins.
Straight to my stomach, excited and terrified, unresting as it disharmonizes with the rest of my organs.
Your willpower, to endure through hardships life scathes you with.
Your passion, able to pursue what you wish, and with no regrets.
Your talent, unique and detailed, parallel to your drawings.
Just a single thought of you shakes my very being.
Sending tremors straight down to my core.
This feeling pulsing and echoing throughout my veins.
Straight to my legs, fluttering and weak just imagining you speak.
I know you don't like compliments, but it's hard to hide the truth.
I could banter, and talk for decades as long as it's with you
I could wait forever, as long as it's for you.
Just a single thought of you.
Makes me feel the way I do.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
A
Twisted
Tail
In a
Trap or an
Upbeat
Dance
Engulfed in bliss
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 1:02 AM UTC
‘LOVE’ – What mystique power it wields
In what myriad guise it wraps!
At times a sweet ache so coy to reveal
Or a sudden urge, hard to unveil
Sometimes a deep sensation
A strong surge of emotion
Permeating every atom
Pervading from top to bottom
It heightens the pulse
And makes every nerve convulse
It has left kingdoms fall asunder
And many a mighty man - surrender
Often, like dew drops falling from above
Or the warbling notes flowing out from the grove
It leaves the heart go upbeat in prosody
Changing every sensation into rhapsody
As beams of silver cast by the moon
Or the cold touch of spray in the horrid heat of noon
It soothes, embalms and thrills the heart
Filling the void and leaving no dearth
Love sublime, sure like a candle lit
Consumes itself, and never dwindles a bit
It dispels the gloom and dissipates the fright
Invigorating the soul and healing every hurt
As brilliance to stars, fragrance to flowers
Music to flute or shade to bowers
Love is to Man, freeing him from all sores
Bestowing him the strength to meet all throes
Love can neither be beguiled nor disguised
Nor be stifled or be construed
Love puts all other things into place
And hems life with a lovely lace
Love is all we seek and too scarce to find
A magic thread by which hearts are bound
Hark! It is love that makes the world spin around
And cures all the ills that surround
Oh! Love thou virtues I will defend
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
Hold me close and tell me everything is going to be okay. Tell me I'm beautiful in the most lowest and upbeat times. Sweet, gentle kisses pressed against me. Love me like no other. Minor arguments and more love. Let's talk things over and reminiscing about our past. Laughing at all the good times we've had and more to come. Let's pray together, relieving our stress, pain, and hurt. Let's just be best friends, where we tell each other secrets. Plan trips and build an empire. Be my king and I'll be your queen. Never worry about anyone else, because all their is, is just the two of us!
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
*While I love the communicable energy
Given from sanguine, upbeat music,
Sometimes the hum of the street
The rushing, dashing, of careening motors
And the leading blissfulness
Is true serenity, just enough.*
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
15 MPH
caution, the kids are at play
embracing the youth they will
one day lose
just like you have
50 MPH
you get where you're going
but on the highway there are hazards
if you don't watch where you're going
or look through the dark
you'll wind up turned over
rolling
rolling
roll...
70 MPH
you're making time
straight forward shot
but you can not see the scenery
and the music is too upbeat
but speed along, sweetie, speed along.
100 MPH
only on the track are you really safe
you're passing strangers
you're losing control
but you can't slam the breaks
you can never stop
280 MPH—
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
~
April 2023
HP Poet: Sarita Aditya Verma
Age: 47
Country: India
Question 1: We are so happy you could be a part of this, Sarita. Tell us how long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?
Sarita Aditya Verma: "I have been writing for the last six years (19th October 2016), that was the first time ever I wrote to express myself. I have been a member and have posting here at Hello Poetry since December 2016. This is the only place where I share my words, sometimes a copy of the same with friends who are willing to read. Hello Poetry has been my sacred space, I feel blessed to be here."
Question 2: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).
Sarita Aditya Verma: "Nature has inspired me forever, be it rain, sunshine, trees or the blooming flowers. The length and breadth of vivid times and emotions. I usually write about the experiences in life, as I lightly observe around. Sometimes it could be a photograph, a painting or even my morning walk. In general, the geometry of life and the rainbow that shines. That’s how poetry happens to me."
Question 3: What does poetry mean to you?
Sarita Aditya Verma: "Poetry is one of the best experiences in my life. It has given me a sense of belonging, a space which is totally mine, brought in a lot of clarity, and words have set me free. 'Sometimes poetry, mostly life, unwritten quotes destiny shall write'- is what I believe in."
Question 4: Who are your favorite poets?
Sarita Aditya Verma: "I have been a science student, and haven’t had much exposure to literature/poetry in my graduation years. So it would be unfair to quote any of the greats here! Robert Frost and Mark Twain are the ones whose works I have enjoyed reading in school. The rest, most of my reading and learning experience, has been at Hello Poetry - from the many great poets and poetesses who share their wonderful work here, and I am grateful for that."
Question 5: What other interests do you have?
Sarita Aditya Verma: "One of my other interests is photography, I love the geometry of the subject- it’s all about angles and curves, and right moments to capture. I am drawn to nature and street photography. I am still into the process of exploring and acquiring the skills. I also enjoy listening to upbeat music :)"
Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much, Sarita! We are really excited to add you to this spotlight series.”
Sarita Aditya Verma: "Thank you so much Carlo, for interviewing me here. I truly enjoyed the questions and am eager to know about and read from other contributors at Hello Poetry :)"
Again thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Sarita a little bit better.
– Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)
We will post Spotlight #3 in May!
~
Apr 3, 2023
Apr 3, 2023 at 8:09 AM UTC
Scene 1:
(Periwinkle room, Jigglypuff poster, soft alternative music)
I stomp in,
Niagara Falls streaming
Throw his copy of Pablo Neruda poetry into the trash
And start reading Virginia Woolf
Poetic revolution.
That’ll show him
Scene 2:
(Cafe atmosphere, fading laughter, upbeat music)
Whoa. That guy. Not that one.
The one on the left
Kinda nice, kinda cute
And he laughed at my joke
Jane Austen romances
and Zooey Glass daydreams
fill my waking moments
Scene 3:
(Restaurant, muffled conversations, classical music)
What is he staring at? Who is he staring at?
Oh no awkward conversation gap
Say something,
quick, anything
“The weather is nice tonight, yeah?”
Not that.
But he laughs
Night saved
Scene 4:
(Outside the restaurant, night breezes, car noises)
“That was nice,”
He casually mentions
Yeah. Nice.
Not great. Amazing. Life-altering.
Nice.
The same adjective used to describe the weather
Devoid of meaning.
Scene 5:
(Car, radio on silent, crickets chirping)
“I wanted to give you something”
Hands me,
Oh dear god no,
A copy of Neruda
That ****** Neruda.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
I've drank a thousand beers
I've smoked a million cigarrettes
I've ate at least a hundred Twix bars
I've watched Breakfast at Tiffany's hours on end
I've flirted with every male waiter that brings me
unfulfilling dish after unfulfilling dish
I've bought weekly **** dark outfits
and I've spent my life savings
on beautiful MAC make-up and a new Legacy
and pumps I think you'd like
I've gotten my hair colored every color I can think of
I've tried being an apathetic punk, an upbeat cowgirl,
a wide-eyed polyanna, a harsh madonna, a fuck-you-feline,
an emotionally charged marilyn, and a classy Diane
I've memorized witty jokes, and roasts, and rivetting last lines
I've modeled and sang and became an athlete
I've played hard to get, I've played easy and teasy
And I've twirled my hair and crossed my legs
and learned to walk while swaying my hips
I've ran miles and kilometers and meters and
I've lifted weights and done zumba and yoga and hiked and biked and
****
There's no comfort and no getting to you.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
My love for you isn't just a feeling.
It's a civilization.
It's a group formed in unorganized noise.
A commotion of expression purposely existing
the sole purpose of you.
Living & breathing.
A jumbled language overheard.
Stenciled with each patter of foot.
Every horn honked.
Each lane clogged with the thought of you.
A foundation built from the ground up
in means to explore.
A stone age modernized.
Misinterpreted by the desire of fire.
Protected.
Built upon.
Built into the tallest building, which I call your name.
My love for you is like the plane that flies overhead.
Roaring loud in repetition.
Tedious nooks & crannies.
Places to shop, things to see.
All the things I see when I look into your eyes.
My love for you a province of sorts.
The smell seared in a pan. Best served on a plate for two.
A mix of different pastas, vegetables.
Fried in upbeat cafe, different aromas.
The chit chat different versions of me.
Complimenting the very essence of you.
A new building erected with cranes and steel beams.
Plastered dry wall.
Soon opened for your arrival
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
Groovy brown skinned brothas
hip hop to the smooth jazzy
beats across the starlight scene,
exhilarating eyes light up
the uptown extravagance,
as they bust a move in the
drumbeating room, rotating
and vibrating, grinding and
bending, breathing in the
singing saxophones and
trombones.
Flashy lights shine bright
and vivid in crystal clears,
as young sweet caramel
girls sway to the high
hypnotizing sounds,
spinning hips lost in the
night, gliding on waves,
shaking in the serene
breeze like swinging trees,
soaring endlessly
across the rings of Saturn.
Heavy adrenaline rises
inside the upbeat and
sassy melanin sistas,
stomping stilettos,
show-stopping arms
and thighs harmonizing
to the midnight rhymes,
while hard bassline sounds
sifts inside various dimensions
of extreme delight.
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
see us dancing
the moment I hear
any upbeat melody
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 5:16 PM UTC
Getting lost
in the Coffeeshop Quartet.
Birring grinders and steamy explosions
chattering friends- coffee tinged emotions.
Everyone's exploring with their faces upbeat,
a little bubble of warmth against the cold harsh street.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 5:41 AM UTC
I have a special interest in telling about my colonoscopy.
The doc cheerful, secure in his specialty, colon cancer being
the second leading cause of cancer death after lung tumors.
They can snip the precancerous polyps right out of you during the test.
At first the doc gave me the statistics but having paid 25 bucks for this
interview
I decided to make him explain the science. He was most comfortable
describing the physical architecture of adenomatous v. hyperplastic
polyps
but what about cell structure I said. He was vague about genes and
hormones,
I could have been chatting with an Electrolux salesman.
I wasn’t worried although my *** was burning.
Everybody dies, everybody, even Whitman and Emerson, so I browse
models for dying—
mine are middlebrow, saddlebow—John Wayne in The Shootist, Paul
Newman in Hombre—or hagiography
Plath her head stuck in an oven, Hemingway who ate his shotgun.
Anyway I was upbeat flirting with the nurse, a muse who has seen it all
before,
acting tough, which isn’t actually an act
you do your prep and say your prayers.
I thought I’d be in and out **** as you probably already know
the prep for this procedure is worthy of Gandhi. A day of fasting,
clear fluids only, and constant voiding.
You arrive at the hospital one spiritual chicken.
I reflected it can’t hurt, lose a little weight, remember who you are
without so much **** and flesh between you and the natural world.
Snipping polyps is like taking electrons to a lower quantum energy level,
nearer the nucleus, with fasting and ****** abstinence.
The art of total presence and abstinence, dependence on the Other for
future existence.
May 15, 2024
May 15, 2024 at 7:09 AM UTC
So many places closed,
And what’s open you can’t get to
For ****** tourists.
Big black clouds are over:
A chill wind blows.
The workaday sun has gone.
Oh yes, it’s Bank Holiday.
The weather is foul
Yet everyone is out.
I can’t get parked.
The crowds slow down
My enforced march.
Our local chippy is closed.
A Doctor?
No chance!
January in May
And maybe in June.
Christmas is worse.
All those needless presents.
Gifts for the sake of it.
Keeping the retailers happy
At our expense.
I’m in a grumpy mood
But who can blame me?
I always try to be upbeat,
But not today.
Paul Butters
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
I’m not a hideous wall flower;
school girl steam pleat, designer girl,
Nike or Jordon’s silly Preteen, air heads
I’m gifted, provocative,
I am the teen princess.
I able to fuss, blush and rebel,
I’m awkward, backward,
I am Peppy long stocking;
I’m all that!
I am teen of the pack;
I am not likely to turn back
I am your commercial, billboard cover story
Smarter than you can imagine,
I am passionate,
but a little old fashion, yet modern,
bold and witty,
Oh yes!
I’m so ambitious, super delicious, super fly
with an upbeat modernize Hollywood red carpet style
I speak in a youthful way;
that’s my urban thesaurus
I am not curse, the curse that invades your privacy,
sometimes, I am sluggish and downright lazy?
I am mommy baby and Daddy maybe
However, I’m no wall flower
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 7:11 AM UTC
Autumn mornings filtered
gentle daylight on sunbeams
across cityways
and warm-tinted sidewalks,
upbeat lofi humming
with the dove's sorrowful song,
while weaving past
the struggles days bring.
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 6:18 PM UTC
Glossy eyes and a glazed over smile.
Curled hair and an upbeat tone.
I walked up to you for what seemed like a mile.
Your eyes were down and you were on your phone.
I knew my name wasn’t in it so I had to take the chance.
You looked away.
Didn’t give me the time of day.
All I wanted to do was dance.
I saw you leave with him, but I wasn’t upset.
I tried my best but I wasn’t enough.
Its crazy how I can remember this now and still feel regret
All these years later I finally called your bluff.
Now you’re walking toward me in a wedding gown.
It’s impossible for me to frown.
But I still can’t help but drown and fight
The thought of you sleeping with him all those years ago
And I’ll never tell my brother about that night.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
Stiletto heels and a push-up bra,
Hair piled high, bleached and toned and all…
That’s the way you used to shuffle around,
But you ain’t been much since your man went to town.
Who’s that a’ worrin’ bout them wrinkles and lines?
Is that the same broad who fell for all his lines?
Well, since he left you all you do is frown.
No, you ain’t done much since your man went to town.
You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now, you ain’t known much since your man went to town.
(Interlude)
You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now, you ain’t been much since your man went to town.
What’cha gotta to do to make it right
Is take your piece out of your purse, it’s a Saturday night.
What’cha gotta do is shoot him down,
‘Cause you cry too much since your man went to town.
(I'm still tweaking the arrangement. It should have an upbeat Little Richard or Ray Charles rock-n-roll mid-upbeat tempo with possibly hand claps on the downbeat like a spiritual chorus... since most early rock and r&b; musicians got their starts in small black southern Baptist churches. Let me know what you think. If it ***** tell me.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
one of my friends is adored by everyone he knows
the kind of kid who smiles all the time
who can always make anyone laugh
always has something motivational and upbeat to say or sing
once we were sitting in English class
talking about change
and it was quiet between us for a minute
so I said
watching people die is hard
and he said
yeah, it is
and I didn't tell him about my grandfather
who had cancer and died in my house a week later
or my grandmother
who lost her mind eight years ago and slowly deteriorates each day
or my aunt
who had her first open-heart surgery when she was fifteen
and is now a bloated skeleton who lingers in wheelchairs
and doesn't sleep and hallucinates
or my second cousin
who only knows all the "wrong" sorts of people
or my friend
who is breaking slowly, who I cannot fix
I didn't tell him because I'd never heard three simple words like that
overflowing with so much empathy
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 5:31 AM UTC
STROLLING OUT OF TUNE
When the wind blows round it swirls and sweeps memories of what was once there, thoughts of an old song take longer and longer to repair
Began toe tapping almost adding in the clapping but would rather arise maybe explore to find a new prize
Stuck in a cerebral gap this tune may take a map,keeping digging in try to place that gorgeous groove
Set off out the door to not be a bore, soon found myself pacing in time to some hidden rhyme ,waiting for it to arise
Birds and buses beginning to chirp and hum adding their part, as I try to pick up more clues
Taking it in stride feeling this may be a long stroll,that unknown elegy will be a nice surprise
Rambling again, smooth echoes entering my mind hopefully helping to harmonize my next muse
Making the next strut to remove muzak from that rut, picking it up a key or two will surely bring brightness to my eyes
Lost lyrics lingering ,slowly letting go of that ********* guitar maybe a banjo or dobro waiting with a new lick to diffuse
Back to the trail humming along listening to the sky's to drop that song,so will this shuffle bring a new ruffle or just be for the exercise
Again set to travel as the sonnets unravel, hoping that bebop will be part of the hop desiring the dancing, breaking into upbeat prancing finally finding that new melody will be the best news. R..C.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 8:25 AM UTC
Strobe lights
Flashing different colors
Every which way I look
They catch the texture of my dress
As I shimmy beside you
We are a strange couple
You with your pale skin
Me with my sweet caramel twist shade
The song changes
This more upbeat
The florescent lights flash faster
The bass thrums in my heart
My body starts to feel the music.
I let go and allow my body to do the rest
I feel a tap on my shoulder
Him.
This boy
I declined
Because of an age difference
He bows and asks for a dance..
I consider
I look at my date
With a stern look upon his child-like face he nods his head at me
He doesn't like this newcomer
Yet
He let's go of my hand as if to say
"It'll be okay for one dace"
I go take this newcomers hand
And dance a slow dance during a fast paced song
Odd...
The song is over as fast as it started
The guest thanks me
and sends me back on my way
back to the boy awkwardly waiting for his mistress to return
A smile immediately illuminates his face
"We are just friends," I think
"We must be..."
As the night progresses it is soon time to leave
He kisses me on the cheek as another once once did and goes off on his way
As I do mine
I see the visitor once more but I decide to evade him
For he is not worth my time
He does not notice me
Good.
I am off
Off to sleep
Now safe in my bed
Homecoming?
Perfect way
To end my night.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
Assonance was ensconced in my bonce once.
It puts me in the mood for a muse.
Love those cool peaceful pools under a Moon in June.
Or to croon about dunes and oasis blooms.
Such a lovely tune,
It’ll make you swoon.
Enjoy my runes,
No matter how crude.
I can be a goon
Or even a loon.
Sometimes a fool.
Poems strewn with clichés
For want of a better phrase.
Words hewn before noon,
To give you a boon.
Bad days may loom,
Injustices done.
Cruelty that’s is fuel for a duel and may ruin a life.
We may be doomed.
But I must stay upbeat,
Give you a treat
And make you fall at my feet.
Quite a feat!
Every dog has his day,
Another cliché you’ll say.
But I don’t get any pay,
So soon be on my way.
Love to play with words,
Writing songs for the birds.
These words are a tool
For making me cool.
We’re back to those pools:
They are shimmering jewels.
Paul Butters
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC