"vera" poems
At the cinema they project a movie
And in that movie at a certain point it's raining
And it's a so realistic rain
That I pull the jacket on
Almost to protect myself
Even outside it's raining, or
Perhaps not.
It's truth this rain that in a dream we dream
Even when it's raining outside?
*
POESIA 2:
Al cinema danno un film
e nel film a un certo punto piove
ed è una pioggia così realistica
che io mi tiro addosso il giubbino
quasi a proteggermi
anche fuori sta piovendo, o forse no.
E’ vera la pioggia che in un sogno sogniamo
anche quando fuori piove?
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
mr moonlight
mr nowhere
maxwell edison
mr jones
dr robert
sgt pepper
mr kite, bb king
edgar allen poe
walter raleigh
mat busby
the hendersons
and maggie mae
mr mustard
captain marvel
rita lucy jojo
vera chuck and dave
mother nature
polethene pam
mr heath doris day
and buffalo bill
loretta martin
**** sadie
hey jude eggman
my michelle
rigby and pilchard
or elenor and semolina
took father mckenzie
too see a dancing horse
henry his name was
rocky raccoon was there
prudence rode elephant
to the i me mine waltz
---
There gonna crucify me
the way things go
christ it aint easy
the next day dont know
you know the walrus was paul man
johns bird can sing
george was a genie
ringo wore a ring
but paul is dead now
george stole his soul
john is alive though
ringos in a hole
her royal highness the tax man
commit the perfect crime
she asked for more
with a belly full of wine
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY’S BONNET AT CHURCH
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace;
Tho’ faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.
Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunned by saunt an’ sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a lady!
*** somewhere else and seek your dinner,
On some poor body.
Swith, in some beggar’s haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle
Wi’ ither kindred, jumpin cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn or bane ne’er daur unsettle
Your thick plantations.
Now haud ye there, ye’re out o’ sight,
Below the fatt’rels, snug an’ tight;
Na faith ye yet! ye’ll no be right
Till ye’ve got on it,
The vera tapmost, towering height
O’ Miss’s bonnet.
My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an’ grey as onie grozet:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I’d gie ye sic a hearty dose o’t,
*** dress your droddum!
I *** na been surprised to spy
You on an auld wife’s flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On’s wyliecoat;
But Miss’s fine Lunardi!—fie!
How daur ye do’t?
O Jenny, dinna toss your head,
An’ set your beauties a’ abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie’s makin!
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!
O, *** some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It *** frae monie a blunder free us
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait *** lea’e us,
And ev’n Devotion!
3.6k
"Here Made of Gone" for Isabella Stewart Gardner
Lyrics By Randy Vera
Music By: Randy Vera and Anthony J. Resta
http://bopnique.com/anthony-j-resta-and-randall-vera-finalists-john-lennon
LYRICS :
Vermeer, Rembrandt, Manet, Degas, from my three thousand year old Chinese KU, I toast you.
Mrs. Jack, I am your Bronze Eagle. I cut the painting at the frame – thieves by any other name.
Mrs. Jack with handcuffs and ***** I overcame your walls. Your collection’s complete.
Titian's Europa still hangs. The mirror to my:
Piece de la resistance. I’m your creme de la creme. I’m the John with the Procures on the wall in Vermeer’s concert.
Here, made of gone.
Mrs Jack, I’m your new William James. Through your kindness, you support me, in Dutch Room empty frames.
Like John Singer Sargent, I toil between your walls. I am Vermeer’s "corn flower blue," indescribable.
The metaphysical: Known unknown!
St Patrick’s Day 1990, I’m in Boston in the Fenway. For my penance, I’ll go to Saint John’s, drop to my knees, and like you, scrub the tiles clean.
Titian's Europa still hangs, the mirror to my: piece de La resistance. I’m your creme de la creme. I’m the John with the Procures on the wall in Vermeer’s concert. Here made of gone.
Where language fails that where art triumphs. The interloper between camps of reason and dreams. I’m an event not cognition. Like any event stored in canvas, paper, pen ,or ink.
Oh Mrs Jack I so love your "Head Band." I’m also a Redsox fan. I loved the Champagne and donuts, and thank you for the paintings.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 6:22 AM UTC
when we fall deep into the never-ending abyss
where biting, caustic words nip at our shoulders,
we forget how to ward them off, but we can.
we can with these ingredients:
- aloe vera infused with compassion
to nurse the acidic sting of those words,
- honey that sticks to toxic atoms,
protecting us from further damage,
- a flame to remind us of our humanity
so we can join with **** sapiens across time,
- and coffee to give us presence of mind
to stay in this very moment.
We can take what we need,
whenever we need it.
Apr 8, 2022
Apr 8, 2022 at 11:35 PM UTC
It was supposed to be fun.
New school, new supplies,
Thin, neon highlighters glowing inside
Vera Bradley backpacks.
Skinny folders assigned to
Pointless subjects,
Which would be fattened
With pointless homework
By the end of the day.
It was supposed to be fun,
And for a little while, I forgot.
I forgot until History.
The new teacher hadn't lived here
Longer than a week,
Which was why he was
Excited
About teaching.
He had on a brand new tie
From Banana Republic
Which was obviously tied
By his wide eyed fiance.
His classroom was bare, as he explained,
"Don't worry,
I ordered posters yesterday."
The teacher wasn't the problem.
The problem was,
Between Richardson
And Roberts,
He still existed.
At least in the school system he did.
"Ashley Paulette?"
"-Here."
"Abby Richardson?"
"-Here."
"Bennett Rill?"
And my life shattered all over again.
The silence felt
Deafening.
Remembering how he wouldn't be there.
Not ever.
"Bennett Rill?"
The teacher was confused, looking around the room
For someone
Who was buried six feet under.
Someone who the teacher might've thought
Was sick, or vacationing.
It was supposed to be fun.
But then I remembered
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
*dreams push truth alive
desperation and desire
hearts fulfilled as one*
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 4:58 AM UTC
✓\
JC
✓\Baby✓\
✓\baby baby✓\
✓\✓\✓\✓\✓\✓\
✓\babe babe babe✓\
✓\✓\✓\babybabybaby✓\✓\✓\
I do I❤️u
I miss you
✓\b✓\
✓\a✓\
✓\b✓\
✓\y✓\
✓\\baby baby baby✓\✓\
✓\✓\✓\✓\✓\✓\✓\✓✓\✓\✓\
By: Karijinbba
@JPC-rdd.rd.
Jul 6, 2022
Jul 6, 2022 at 9:24 AM UTC
legions of aloe vera lick my
toes, persuading in dissonance.
a herpetic grin streaks your
teeth, grease and yellowed
pages harrowed in stem.
now, i will tell you these
roses (that are everyanything
of a colour)--
sizzle against soft fingers,
the waft of yesterday
scribbling strikes of sense.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 8:29 PM UTC
Free fall sensation in the dark
invited dizzy dreams
spark singed skin
the last time I felt like I do when you touch me
I had stuck a necklace in an electrical socket
to try and figure out how the lights work
I thought I could take the energy
I thought by touching it I could understand
Except for that hurt, and you are the opposite of hurt on the same intensity
just with fingertips
except for I understand alternating current now but not this
You make me want to make sculptures
and bad jokes
you make me write but the words come out like dogs off the leash in the park
Next to you is the place where I fell asleep at the beach
and woke up warm and sun-washed
where my body felt like it belonged to me
and the waves had washed away the smell of wet cities and
old growth trees
Next to you is banana pancakes with strawberries
and silence is a round comfortable thing
like hobbit feet
like blanket forts
safe and temporary constructions
inventive nomadic shelters
lovely places to spend rainy days
You are like aloe-vera gel
and I've been forgetful and spent to much time in the sun
trying to breath in life but got hurt
but it doesn't feel raw when you slide over my skin
instead its tingly bits of mint and blue
like gypsy wind chimes and spicy food
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 7:16 AM UTC
697
I could bring You Jewels—had I a mind to—
But You have enough—of those—
I could bring You Odors from St. Domingo—
Colors—from Vera Cruz—
Berries of the Bahamas—have I—
But this little Blaze
Flickering to itself—in the Meadow—
Suits Me—more than those—
Never a Fellow matched this Topaz—
And his Emerald Swing—
Dower itself—for Bobadilo—
Better—Could I bring?
1.9k
Billy Wynne Veracruz
best baseball pitcher ever
Me Mestizo beloved by the shore a teen a wannabe Mom wannabe wife.
Within his theme songs
In beautiful mystic Vera-cruz.
From the Shaks restaurant my cashiering job
Pitcher asked to walk by the ocean hand in hand.
Baseball players eyes glared so sea-sky blue.
Tallest Knight touching hands.
Handsome king of hearts
"Sweet Caroline song blasted
on pitchers radio cassette player and
" The great Pretender,*
The hours long.
Smooth all passion
seed withheld and me fire firefly flew away..
~~~
Kings like you ought to have many wives
and many babies
Your kind are the crown jewels of fatherhood and motherhood best super human seeds divine
Your legacy rules Earth.
~~~
I found my own reign, great treasures my king heart of gold like mine, called me beauty himself Beast.
Loved to be a one woman man for a one man woman like me his rddbba-Ginny.
We fell in love at first sight
my true love my
handsome American.
Such elite chose me to change Earth he was the bridge and me his worldbringer portal to heaven his star seed.
My once upon a time my twin soul, twin flame King of hearts, became my imaginary best friend my owl of wisdom my everything.
Our theme songs were Spill your heart to me, and what a wonderful world by Armstrong L.
We were also beauty and the Beast.
The memory of my knight my king lover, my true love
my companion,
keeps me safe and sound.
~~~~
By: Mr. and Mrs. Andrews.
Honoring Karijinbba
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 8:35 AM UTC
Il termine, la vetta
di quella scoscesa serpentina
ecco si approssimava,
ormai era vicina,
ne davano un chiaro avvertimento
i magri rimasugli
della tappa pellegrina
su alla celestiale cima.
Poco sopra
alla vista
che spazio si sarebbe aperto
dal culmine raggiunto...
immaginarlo
già era beatitudine
concessa
più che al suo desiderio, al suo tormento.
Sì l'immensità, la luce
ma quiete vera ci sarebbe stata?
Lì avrebbe la sua impresa
avuto il luminoso assolvimento
da se stessa nella trasparente spera
o nasceva una nuova impossibile scalata...
Questo temeva, questo desiderava.
1.8k
you are, you sing, a (rock) star,
but you are so much, much more,
you are, you are, who you are,
and who you are is someone adored,
by those who come to see you,
on the stage beneath the lights,
dancing, and laughing, really true,
sharing your all throughout the night!
For you are much more than a rock star,
you are YOU, bright, shining you,
with so many who love you for who you are,
you sing, you dance, you glimmer, yes, indeed you do!
-inspired by this video of Vera Wylde performing "So What" by Pink:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFIn84SLnY8&feature;=player_embedded
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 2:31 AM UTC
Si può o non può avere sentito un po 'di qualcuno di nome Kelly Clarkson sono sposati lo scorso fine settimana .E il suo matrimonio?Total .TOTALE .Svenire .Le nostre LBBers talento ultra dietro Archetype Studio Inc. ha fatto gli onori di catturare il giorno e stanno dando a noi anatre poco fortunati una sbirciatina a tutti la bella .
e dire la verità .un piccolo sguardo a Tennessee fattoria matrimonio di Kelly è tutto quello che dobbiamo sapere che siamo con tutto il cuore in amore .Non siete d'accordo
?
Fotografia : Archetype Studio Inc. | Abito da sposa: " Jessamine " by Temperley London | Anelli : Johnathon Arndt | capelli: Robert Ramos | Vestito dello sposo : John Varvatos | Fascia : Maria Elena | Trucco : Ashley Donovan | Stylist : Steph Ashmore| Luogo: Blackberry Farm
Prima di testa fuori nel fine settimana .abbiamo pochi vincitori super speciale !
Emily R abiti da sposa 2014 portato a casa un paio di Wedgewood Vera **** abiti da sposa 2014 Amore Nodi tostatura flauti da Secrets abiti da sposa corti Puerto Los Cabos Golf \u0026Spa Resort !Woohoo!
E complimenti a Fiona McGregor \u0026Nick Connellan .che hanno vinto una sessione impegno libero da Adrian Tuazon Fotografia !
Buon fine settimana !xoxo SMPTemperley London è un membro del nostro Look Book .Per ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui .Archetype Studio e Adrian Tuazon Fotografia sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Archetype Studio Inc. vedi portfolio Adrian Tuazon Fotografia VIEW
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http://www.belloabito.com/goods.php?id=855
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
Mi sono innamorata
delle mie stesse ali d'angelo,
delle mie nari che succhiano la notte,
mi sono innamorata di me
e dei miei tormenti.
Un erpice che scava dentro le cose,
o forse fatta donzella
** perso le mie sembianze.
Come sei nudo, amore,
nudo e senza difesa:
io sono la vera cetra
che ti colpisce nel petto
e ti da larga resa.
1.6k
boy may move
make moves
the coast sways blue
ghostly grey quaaludes
gasp and gather and get gone
see gulls
see “get out of dodge” a la roget
sunburnt skin Rośe
aloe
vera ****
saint white
more saint than yves laurent
freighter; only witness
speak now
or hold your peace
see “forever” a la webster
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
1
Pete sets off the alarm as he walks in the doors
Tells me his new heart must be talking to the machines
He talks like Jimmy Stewart was from Boston
All elbows
While I am bruised ribs
Vera sounds like an airplane concession cart
With all the right liquor
Her faded blue walker
Drowns out her sighs
Maybe it’s her knees
I am not sure
2
Before our bodies blend
And I am part appliance
I want to love your sound
If your navel were a ****
I might turn your soft belly
Into a music box
So I could listen to your heart
Through your ribcage
After I bury my head there
Put me to sleep with your
Human sound
I want to hear the rust in your hips
With my head on your lap
The sweet sound of our lively decay
There is no better music
It is simple
Like my name
You can still say it while being punched
In the gut
You breathless barbarian
Just dance with me
Until it is all that we have
To know we’re still human
Dance like flames
Without the fear of swelling joints
Dance like waves trying to break the boardwalk
Dance for your future fake hips
Just dance
3
We link arms as we walk
Even through your jacket
I can tell how soft you are
I want to tell you about our footsteps
How when we are old
And we both have canes
When walking down hallways with linoleum floors
I know we will sound like the saddest horse
So I tell you that I will still love you
Even after our bodies are made into glue
You know me well enough by now
That this is just me being sweet
I kiss you goodbye
Listen to your car’s engine hum
It is so quiet
You might actually hear me sigh
When the sound of you driving away
Sounds like the horsepower of one sad horse
On his last three legs
Like
One sad old lady
Even if we’re just friends by then
I won’t forget
The sweet music of our decay
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 7:24 AM UTC
Ci sarai per sempre un pezzo nel mio cuore,
Non sono mai sentita un così bello fiore,
Vorrei sapere se, un giorno rincontremo,
Perchè non posso pensare di un mondo dove non ci saremo,
Tu hai già cambiato tutta la mia vita,
Tu sei la mia unica, la mia bella vera città,
Non voglio dire mai delle cose che ci viene,
Solo qua sembra che tutto potrebbessere va bene.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
It started with the wide-leg Giorgio Armani pants
And it all went downhill from there.
They were so chic, and might improve her stance,
She could wear them to the market, hell, almost anywhere!
When she put them in her shopping cart
And continued to enter her credit card number,
A shot went right through her fashion-hungry heart
A jolt she still remembers!
It was the feeling of a new era
A new time in the lifespan of her wardrobe.
She would become a Prada-shopper, a vintage Chanel-wearer
No longer would she need to shuffle around her apartment in that awful bathrobe.
She'd strut down the street, sporting her Carolina Herrera.
A month later, a tingle slipped through her spine
As she donned a lapis Michael Kors
It was that sudden thought, "This dress is all mine!"
"It's mine now, so it isn't yours!"
From then on, it was her bank account that took the hardest hits
Money trickled through her Valentino-studded hands,
Down her Vera **** hips,
Came running down in thin, green strands.
Of course it all came falling apart when she saw the flawless Birkin bag,
Sitting there in the Hermes shop window
She knew it was the one thing she'd yet to snag!
However, there was just one thing she didn't know.
As she had the cashier ring it up,
Dropping another ten-grand
The cashier had her card snatched right up!
For this, Madame Fashion couldn't stand.
"Give it back!", she said, snapping her gold-dusted finger
"But dear you're overdrawn," said the snappy lady.
How she wanted to scream like soprano opera singer!
It was then that things got real shady.
In a lurch of madness, Madame jumped the counter!
The other shoppers were struck into awe and fear.
The cashier woman tried to stop her,
But Madame had just barely escaped, finally in the clear!
As she ran down fifth avenue, clutching her precious steal
A horrible revelation took over this felon,
She'd forgotten that she had wanted the purse in gorgeous teal!
Instead she had gotten melon.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 3:55 AM UTC
Pain, so irrevocable
Always too late once muttered.
You slice & dice me
And, I
Sprinkle you with lovers dust.
You pour petrol on an already lit fire
The smell still lingers days later
And, I
Seek out sweet medicine
Caressing your wounds;
Aloe Vera grows abundantly besides what we once called home.
You're the dog with her tail between her legs,
And, I
Gather you in my arms as you cry
A baby ripped from the womb
too soon.
© Sia Jane
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
Humid, sweat
The frizzing of hair
Burning black leather
Scalding seat buckles that induce cursing
Air condition on full blast
Walk in sweating
Walk out shivering
Self made fans out of anything
Slip n slides, swimming, ice cream
Sun glasses
Soaking up the sun
Ice tea, lemonade
Aiming for that killer tan
Sunburns, aloe vera
Sticky school days
That last too long
And the savior of the south goes to
Central air
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
Vera once told me Mickey Mouse used to be a bisexual
That she can’t have kids
That I should never get old
But if I do
Don’t get diabetes because
Sugar free chocolate doesn’t taste nice
Her hair has that blue hue
Almost purple
It brings out her eyes
Her voice
When it is not overpowered by her walker
Is smooth and sure
Like sandpaper on velvet
She talks like she is already a ghost
I had a dog when I was younger
And he got sick one day
Really he got old
Something about his liver
And he started to bleed out from the inside
I asked the vet if he was in pain
He said no
Basically he got really tired
So he thought it was time to take a nap
And he went to his place
And never woke up
That’s a nice way to die
She smiles at me
I give her change
For the diapers
And the sugar free chocolate
And the 16 ounce bottle of orange juice
I touch her hand
It feels like that one time
Paper tried to be human
And begged you to play along
I played along
I don’t want her to die
But she’s 93
She’s cool with that
She tells good stories
And I know I won’t see her one day
I’m cool with that
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 5:04 AM UTC
I need the sun and it's warm arms around me,
I need earth's sweet soil to stain my bare soles,
and soul,
I need the thick air of a humid day,
with the rain clouds hanging over me,
threatening to obstruct my evening plans of star gazing,
I long for the warm, ***** waters of the lakes of my home town,
the gargling bubbles in the back of my throat when I accidentally breathe underwater,
and I long for the pain in my ear canal when water gets trapped,
from pretending to be a mermaid for too long,
I am impatient for the ache on my shoulders and face, from UV exposure,
too much of a good thing does exist,
but it's nothing Aloe Vera can't soothe,
I am anxious for cold beers on the porch with my best friends
in the home we live in together,
and I am anxious for the mornings wasted laying in bed,
with the morning sunshine through my lace curtains as my only alarm clock,
I want the bruised legs, scraped knees, freckles, and ***** hands
that only these short lived summer months can bring to me,
I want the careless, reckless, "it's only 2 am" behaviors that come with a late sunset,
and I want the happiness that comes with the scent of flowers entangled in my hair,
a late sunrise, and warm winds.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC