"wittiness" poems
I watch the prom Dance,
In an awkward stance,
my friends walk in with dates,
and the excitement Abates.
Alone in a corner,
I mope like a mourner,
With no partner to dance with,
No gentleman to prance with.
Amidst the mirth and cheers,
My eyes fill up with tears.
I rush out into the open air,
And by Jove! I see Voltaire!
With his satirical charms,
He draws me in his arms.
As I sway to the beats,
I'm waltzing with Keats.
Causing my funny bone to arouse,
Enters P.G. Wodehouse!
Using nonchalant wittiness,
He acknowledges my prettiness.
And then walks in Shakespeare,
Who wipes away my tear,
And my senses curdle like curds,
As he showers me with words.
While I repress the excited child,
I'm swaying with Oscar Wilde.
I'm rendered helplessly mute,
With his phrases so astute.
With a proposal so verse-y,
I'm serenaded by Shelly B. Percy.
And before this fantasy can spoil,
I fox trot with Conan Doyle.
And thus literally seduced,
into putty I'm reduced.
I am platonic-ally smitten,
By the genius of what they've written.
The dating circus can’t make me cry,
because a host of paramours have I.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Sorry to...
Hit yo noes
like a brick of green
Like the grass that grow
nourished by the Celtic saints that know
Man tell a lie better make it true
if you don’t, then what do I make of you?
Now Wonder Woman
no wonder were human
bringing Brooklyn
some thunder hoodlum
My baited brown eyes look up and down you
Mile marker .66
and I’m still hitting this
crisp as a chrysalis
you may be the eyewitness
of my fist to this
more like the wittiness
of my pen tip dipped in ambergris
I get around you get the gist
healing hands I mend the cyst
with broken hands I gripped the rich
don't understand
don't worry
like Krishna I persist
zzzz Slept on like
The buzz of viciousness
**** the violence
turn the red to VIOLET
just look right through my eyes slit
Now and then
divine feminine deigned
to grace my face again
turned fake eyes to grin
false pride, double subs, and sin.
Complete appreciation, genuflected form reflected in
this fertile goddeSS
who puts the seeds in season
She see through SnakeS and reedS when
She based in wiSdom
reaSon
designed to take the basest race
from darkest depths to airs of divine space
till we’re flushed with grace
some are hushed by my ace in the whole
I'm a S33ker throwing axes
but YOU better only call me
an axehole
when
I
mis
s
.
***** simple as this.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 12:22 AM UTC
People tell me with hushed lips and pained irises,
(pain really only flickers and quietly sinks deep within the absolute oblivions of you.)
that it will get better.
"You grieve, I have done it. Every person has."
Not for this one.
Not for him or her that is.
She had the sort of wittiness that would cut right though that
buttery feeling of warmth
wisped from
one hell of
a
smile.
Guess whose?
He had one of the loveliest voices, one that lulls your tired eyelids to much needed sleep.
A voice that will inexplicably grasp your fingertips when you feel utterly lost and breathless with pain.
And, I could go
*on,
on
&
on.*
Just that my very voice will be cracked
by
the
sweet, bitter
goodbye
whispered by
the yellowing memories
of
them.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 8:50 AM UTC
My Beloved,
I wonder where you rest your head tonight
I wonder the warmth of your skin
I wonder if you laughed, or cried today
I wonder what your hope lies in
I wonder if you have talent, or wittiness, or charm
I wonder if you wish to have me tucked beneath your arm
I wonder where you are tonight and why you're not with me
But I know soon enough, My Love, together we will be
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
I am Lisa
Youth is a good thing I guess,
unless --
It becomes the lens
through which you are seen.
Then --
Your ambitious ideas are
youthful, not wise
Your wittiness is
immaturity, not humor
Your springy-step is
young bones, not joy in living.
Youth is a good thing I guess,
but better, authenticity.
I am who I am, 20 or 60.
My age affects me,
but my age isn't me.
I am who I am.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
I have a canvas.
It's filled with all kinds of pleasant colors.
I usually paint it with kindness.
A smile is meant to make people trust you.
Let's layer the canvas with a few nice words.
Some wittiness too.
Laughter is always appreciated.
Just don't add any undesirable colors.
It has to be bright and beautiful.
No dull colors.
Dull colors are hated.
Even if the dull colors are a part of you don't add them.
Keep it up.
Don't falter.
If you slip up they'll hate the canvas and everything it contains.
Each brush stroke will never be in vain, just keep it up.
Don't let them see the dull colors.
All that's needed is brilliance because no one appreciates a dull canvas.
Even though you sometimes love the dull colors don't ever reveal them.
Bury them under layers of color.
It's like this the painting is beautiful.
Everyone loves beauty.
Even if it's not the true colors of the canvas, all that matters is to be loved.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
Always... Always, the contradiction with you. Why is that? Both ugly and beautiful, And so very human. Creating art one moment, then burning it the next. Fighting wars to forget what for.
What is the point?
Raised in wealth or in the slums. Both born on earth, but two from two separate worlds.
If you have the means dropping a grand for a one year olds handbag, is good training for an early fashion sense.
While out there, kids starve, who have never had even a drop of clean water.
And which do you think is blown up for the cover of your favorite magazine?
But it's all good. Fill your house with pretty things. As long as you don't have to wittiness the deforestation.
Pumping the earth dry of its resources to use without conservation.
Using animals to test the latest hair treatment without reservation.
It seems... It seems so meaningless.
That we can waste our cash on such petty things, diet pills and diamond rings.
That some will never learn to read, because another's deluded belief in a high power.
But we won't have to pay, not yet
But someday someone will.
Future generation would condemn us.
That we can have the capacity to love so deeply and to **** so needlessly.
Born to die,
in a world of contradictions.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
"One eighth of my heart is for tea & penning silly things on blank pages."
she murmurs under her slow breaths.
A little inward gasp falters her heartbeat upon the realization that the seven eighths of her heart has been unwittingly stolen by Mister Him.
"Sweet-heart, you have managed to take one ∞ of mine."
His voice is like buttery sunshine on winter-bitter skin.
"That's not possible, silly boy!"
Her smile punctuating each letter, sighs of bliss lives in the spaces.
"What I meant was: You have taken all of me. Not just my heart.
Soul & body.
The little kaleidoscope of moments I think at 2am are already hopelessly tangled with that hell of a smile, the astute wittiness
and
the
curve
of
your waist."
For now, I have only taken one whole of your lips. I think. He pauses and winks a upside crescent moon.
I have made you
speechless.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
fantasizing future breaches in this ever-taxing wall
with every thanks due to you, and your cordial way of moving my thoughts
towards you, and upwards into this exotic dream of
clever rhymes and reverie, of fluctuating feelings and wittiness
with the rest of the story remaining untold, prosperity or tragedy
don’t let this breach tear my walls down from the inside out
please.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
to that cheerful girl that I love the most,
a friend that is always happy and full of jokes,
but all you can see is just a peak,
there is more when you continue the seek.
see, that girl with two faces,
one with a smile and one with a frown,
under those masks are tears of her realities,
the pain of rejection and judgements of this world,
she chose to be isolated,
fearing the rising oblivion around her.
see, her mind clouded by her deepest thoughts,
many she have fought,
to attain freedom against the circling storms,
and for her to assess her greatest confusions
see, deep down into her soul,
the resonating sounds of her cries and remorse,
waiting to explode ,
crawling into infinitive darkness,
every second counts as if it's not endless.
see, her heart being a prey to fools,
doing everything,
and breaking borders and rules,
but the saddest is after all of that,
her heart was left broken too,
no one to comfort,
for she's just hiding it's pain.
keep her, treasure her,
she's a person to keep with a side of wittiness to spare,
love her the way she loves the world,
show to her that she's important too,
make her the happiest person.
if you are like her,
thank you for being a part of this world,
people who sacrifice things for others to be satisfied,
i know how many times you cried,
but don't worry,
there will come a time that fate itself will bring you someone,
someone that will give the same importance as you did.
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
Wait is the word
heard,
sensed, is, perhaps, the better way to say
wait is the thought
the sign, signal initial init,
to wit,
you, you wit this by your wittiness, as you
wish
you could crawl from the cave
Imagine it were you, bred and fed in dark,
flicker lit shadows on the rocks
name them, name these things you see in
flicker lit shadows on the rocks
Send the hunters now to find them, gift them
fire to see their way,
good light,
gluck, gut gluck
Between the rivers of Babylon, we wept
not for the city, but
for the peace.
Words with out, out with words,
mean meant words, anger, hate
what thought is this in this word hate,
evil, in a word.
taste and see, sweet. Venge again,
love it, love it love it
oops.
Dopamagic
rewarded
safe, senseless, sleep. Wait.
Waiting is, suffer it to be so.
waiting brings no pain,
waiting is watching
Time is spent
perceiving
receiving
conceiving
conceit
deceipitic deception revere
the be guiled named the beguiler
hell is imagined
Satan, the Great Shatan, the deceiver,
the poets who prospered
while lying
and adding lies to the canon included
in the fruit of the tree of knowledge
The unconscienced demi-urge, oh Jah,
in a word
hmmmm in Polynesian POV
Imaginary hells work, why then,
should no trials imagining
heaven work as well?
The old man at the back, raises one digit,
he bids us wait, and
slowly rises
full height, he is not bent with care,
flicted with spotty doubt nor
wavering aim.
You, also know,
Christ had no mythology.
you know that. You know that.
you know
absolute knowledge
you trust that's known, right.
you trust that's known right.
No, you don't.
I do.
You must wait to prove me wrong.
Meanwhile,
watch and see.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:28 PM UTC
*****
how would you like it
the bartender
sighs the lord’s name in vain
understood the slurred wittiness
wobble onto stool
****** over
joining the rest of the line
sweet
the sound
system jests that one song
about a breakup
puke on the sofa next to your carpet
it’s yellow
swayed hips
shoulders give way
diluted In and Out closed
turn over
moist
to the Devil’s dance floor
where a pretty ugly Frenchie took your wrist
foot strikes a patch of ice
popped cherry on a yellow wheel stop
get up dizzy
scrape on forearm
the impassionate spring fever
wrapped around neck
constrains body against
*****
hands stroked rock hard back
she asks if she could have a stick
reached into baggies
pulled out a yellow
she takes halo
you took halo
got into the convertible
a silent triumph when you insert your key
twist
---
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 5:49 PM UTC
I wrote you a poem,
I wrote you into a poem,
I wrapped your name around every letter,
And engraved my heart upon the title.
I inked your eyes into the bark of a pine,
And your hair I turned into raven’s wings.
Your laugh was the rain cloud-spattered blue sky,
Then I molded your touch into the petals of a rose.
On the points of the brambles that adorned the meadow floor,
I hung your wittiness,
And your mind I carved into the antlers of a stag.
Then when I made night fall upon the pages
Where I wrote the poem that was you,
I made the mystery of the dark your presence,
And let the moonbeams become your smile.
Every star in the sky was made to be a sparkle in your eyes.
I wrote the weather to be as unpredictable as you,
And I rhymed your heart into the deepest recesses of the darkest cave,
Out of sight, out of reach.
I wrote you into a poem,
Where I buried all my unsaid feelings
Below the roots of the largest pine tree,
Beneath the earth that held the verses.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
Wished me away
Guess what I'm here to stay
You'll never change me
You can embrace me and hate
Knocked down but bouncing back up
Head held high you say I'm stuck up
Judge me but you'll never destroy
My charm my Wittiness
Left town came back
Rejuevenated pure turn to the heart
Stay true that's a start
Take on the world make it your own
Get in the zone in the mind your grown
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 7:06 AM UTC
Stands tall around me are walls I built.
A protection from thorny hands I seek.
Numbness and wittiness I picked.
To survive world of treachery and trick.
I jolt on the wall that loudly crackling.
They waggled in continuous pounding.
Crooked long veins sudden witnessing.
Having these walls crumpled is frightening.
Like every king's gate, I put faith in it.
Believing could make it strong a bit.
I prepare myself through fear I met.
Must face anything my fate would get.
Few monents passed, the pounding has stopped.
Leaves my mind with question why sudden nap.
Curiosity drove me to wall to tap.
Bricks fall down to earth with loud thundering clap.
Blinded by light, my eyes try to open.
Finds laying on ocean of buds a maiden.
Her tired blooded hands made my heart broken.
Tears fell out of my eyes, felt the pain.
I caress her while I moan.
Wishing the walls had never shown.
Looking back at my life I created and own.
Learning my life is like a stone.
The angels from the above cry,
making her body clean and spirit fly.
Having me touched, she doesn't deserve to die.
"Give us another chance!" my eyes won't dry.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
there is an angel on the couch
a special kind of sacred
I am afraid to touch for the risk of breaking
a soul as wise as it aching
I will tread slow and safely
with myself on my sleeve
I can only hope she comes to me
there is an angel on the couch
I can see her spirit vibrating through her skin
she is squirming
hoping no one will notice
but earlier
outside
one of her feathers took off with the wind
and I am the only one who seen it
there is an angel on the couch
and I am a man too shy to open my mouth
failing to display my wittiness and sincerity
the vessels I use to send my love out
but I am floating, vulnerable in the sea
with the over whelming fear that I might drown
there is an angel on the couch
with a stereo and collection of cds
of people I know about
I chose a song
and as it song started
I sat back down unnoticed
"I hear a voice..."
there is angel on the couch
with her eyes closed and moving around
with her hands in the air
disrupting the sloth like clouds
she is in perfect sync with the sound
I am staring down at my knees
just wandering
around in my head
trying to remember to breathe
I am high beyond all reasoning
and the angel gives me an unfamiliar feeling
just sitting there on the couch
still not sure she can see completely see me
I am just a simple mortal peasant
and she has earned beautiful white wings
then without hesitation
I leave
and still, to this day
the reason escapes me
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
I remember being next to you
No matter which one was you
The lights were dim and we were close
I remember being next to you
It was late and warm, there was rain on the windows
It was a new feeling because you weren’t him
It was an old feeling because I’ve been here before
I remember being next to you
I remember the first time you touched me
A sly smile because we’ve both been waiting
Each one soft and then surprising
Uniquely
I remember being next to you
I had the giddiness of a small child
Barely able to get out my words before laughing with nerves
A silliness that only presents itself in new situations
A wittiness that is limited time only
I remember being next to you
But it wasn’t him
With him there was winter
And the walls were white because of the sun and the snow
And we weren’t in a bed or lying on the floor
We were on the couch and we always woke up too early
His eggs were cooked in oil and it always left a crispy rim
I didn’t like it all that much but it was familiar
The shower was always cold and the walls were in need of washing
He’d then kiss me romantically but there was never enough room
We’d end up laughing for the attempt at trying to be ****
Busy, busy, we were always busy
There was an innocent bitterness under my breath
Upset because he did not cancel the day’s priorities
Always feeling like we never had enough time
Yet remembering my time with him the most
Remembering my being next to him
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
I feel the ease,
Like wind blowing freely in the ocean.
My fingers and these words
Belonging as the words to the mouth.
Time stops as I sit here with you
That you always show me the taste of my own being.
And if I would have to go through once more the ride of life train,
I would go through you like I did again and again.
Grazing at you while you walk in front me;
Staring at your green eyes when filled with the aroma of fondness;
Falling deeper at your wittiness and burst of laughter;
Dragging me down again to the pits of your sweetness and warmth,
You are here and you are there,
I will always remember you wherever you are.
I felt the ease,
Like wind blowing freely in the ocean.
My fingers uninterrupted with these words,
Time storms like hurricanes, fast and destructive
Leaving a scar deep,
That you just showed up
That you already had messed me up then
And here you are leaving me like you always do again and again.
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 8:55 AM UTC
We tend to extract the-
complexity out of the mouth of simplicity,
counting till 10 is a necessity.
But remains a struggle
in times of words nascency.
Trust me it's not a matter of literacy.
You lack the visibility of our daily-
neurological battlefields
at the front line, we remain helpless and shieldless.
We're not pulling the triggers.
once shot at, can't be taken back
don't blame our mouths for shooting opinions -
blame an intuition that knows all the facts
Wittiness comes at a price.
Friend, I am sorry that you have to pay the bills, sometimes
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 3:23 PM UTC
The color of the rainbow makes no sense.
I say this like I'm color blind.
parents are weird ya know?
clinging to their baby to the very end?
but what if they were never there?
like what if it was all a lie just to make you feel better?
I can't really talk about it much but through this poem I say:
No one ever loves you till your vulnerable.
They don't love till your on your knees begging for their love.
I've never felt loved by my parents.
mom hates me cause I want to "leave" her.
dad hates me cause I exist.
I don't know what to do with my life atm.
But I do know one thing.
I will always love your smile.
Your laugh.
Your wittiness
Our heartfelt moments.
Our desire to be who we are together or alone.
the connection we have
even when you think we don't
I love you mom and dad.
I just wish you did the same.
Jul 2, 2024
Jul 2, 2024 at 9:55 PM UTC
i'm restles§ & laZy
& wirəd & tired
& _not_ ⁿ°ⁿuncrayZ
& antiadmired
a little bit manic
& chillaxed as a maniac
i picnic with Panic
& retardədly brainiac
& God as my wittiness
i'm ●ver herə trying
to c○pe with the shittiness
of living while dying
Jul 29, 2024
Jul 29, 2024 at 2:59 AM UTC
I wonder if I’m too ****** up to ever get my ending
Tattered and torn to shiny and new
If Cinderella walked past me would I even notice her shoes?
Do I act like I’m in love with you?
Because I’m really trying hard
Is this just how we do this now?
Wipe modern love’s sweat from my modest brow
It’s really hot out today
Can you send me any nudes?
Baby please be a cool girl
I promise I won’t be ghosting you
And moms, well they all love me
Some ***** named Kiki loves me too
Please buy all the ******** I’m selling you
My wittiness and charisma is just all a clever ruse
All of these matches couldn’t light a single fuse
I wonder what the greatest generation would have to say to me and you?
Cause there’s no more ******* foot pops
No more dear John I love you’s
Let me get out of this whirlpool before I drown in all the hearts
Everyone says theirs is broken but you’d have to find it first
Starter husband, starter home, starter **** and starter wife
Someone smarter shouldn’t bother with my stupid ******* life
Where the **** have we gotten to
Where heys and how are yous
Are so mundane and you complain
When an emoji doesn’t follow suit
I think I’ll stay down here in loneliness
And maybe my dream it will appear
She’ll be tall and she’ll be funny
I’ll say everything she wants to hear
It’s really hot out today
Can you send me any nudes?
Baby please be a cool girl
I promise I won’t be ghosting you
And moms, well they all love me
Some ***** named Kiki loves me too
Please buy all the ******** I’m selling you
My wittiness and charisma is just all a clever ruse
All of these matches cant light my fuse
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC