"wonderfully" poems
Read this to yourself. Read it silently.
Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound.
Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.
What a wonderfully weird thing, huh?
NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD!
SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND!
DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.
Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper.
Now, read this next line with your best crochety- old-man voice:
"Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?"
Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that?
It sure wasn't yours!
How do you do that?
How?!
Must be magic.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a ****** deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am shy and I am outspoken
with a heart of stone, easily broken.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
an occasional liar just keepin' it real.
I am weird and lovely and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
Magic
Read this to yourself.
Read it silently.
Don’t move your lips.
Don’t make a sound?
Listen to yourself.
Listen without hearing anything.
What a wonderfully weird thing, huh?
NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD!
SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND!
DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.
Now, hear a whisper.
A tiny whisper.
Now, read this next line in your best crotchety old man voice:
“Hello there sonny, does this town have a post office?”
Awesome! Who was that?
Whose voice was that?
Certainly not yours.
How do you do that?
How!?
Must be magic!!
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
you asked me to come:it was raining a little,
and the spring;a clumsy brightness of air
wonderfully stumbled above the square,
little amorous-tadpole people wiggled
battered by stuttering pearl,
leaves jiggled
to the jigging fragrance of newness
—and then. My crazy fingers liked your dress
….your kiss,your kiss was a distinct brittle
flower,and the flesh crisp set
my love-tooth on edge. So until light
each having each we promised to forget—
wherefore is there nothing left to guess:
the cheap intelligent thighs,the electric trite
thighs;the hair stupidly priceless.
19.4k
an identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfully into an energy-giving pernicious compoundan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullyan identity crisis and stabbing anxiety mix wonderfullymix wonderfullymix wonderfully
mix wonderfully
mix wonderfully
mix wonderfully
mix wonderfully
mix wonderfully
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 2:50 AM UTC
How wonderfully mysterious the life is
A beautiful architecture,a puzzle,a bliss
I am a composer trying to write his song
But half of me is missing,
Surrounded by the crowd i still feel alone
I feel incomplete,my melody is scarce
I am drowning into notes to which i divorce
My other half...
I wish i knew how she looks like,
I wish i knew where her presence resides
But my soul is still rummaging...
It remains just the desire that deep inside me hides
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
Feelings, the treasure of ones heart,
A flame, cast ablaze by the purity of righteousness, warm alike sunlight, yet not as burning or uncomfortably hot if exposed too long,
As embracing, as a motherly tugging hug, full of love and dearness,
It feels so gentle, like a soft breeze, sweetly touching the blossoming petals, after a soft rain pours water over their delicate, little bodies,
So warm, as if enlightment were close to reach beyond the border of consciousness, growing strong and happy, alike a peach tree,
Celestial is what it tastes like, sweeping over my transience in awe,
It is but an emotion, which would soften a stone hard heart and make it alike cotton and wonderfully sweet as candy from amongst heaven,
Inner peace, served on a golden plate behind a courtain of sunlight, describing the greatest pleasure,your drink and thankfulness for what you have, without greed, the desire to have more, despising violence,
And even though humans will keep on living, such whilst being in a wretched, poor state, destined to fight on and hope for the better,
Living, is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
If life goes smoothly and wonderfully ,then Then I have to be happy ,but Not at all ... We all love our works and our jobs ,but Nothing goes perfect Simply because there are some people who Go fishing in the muddy water ... Nothing remains great anytime Simply because there are some who look for troubles At work anytime,anywhere,and everywhere ... There is that ugly harassment that arises only from Those who look for troubles for any reasons ... Life goes badly with that ugly harassment Simply because things will go bad ... If the employers or if the managers keep silent ,then Everyone and everything will turn up-side-down ... It's very important to be one team rather than To corner oneself into those troubles With that ugly harassment ... There are a lot of employees who suffer Without finding any solution ... That ugly harassment never brings people ,but It cracks all people's relationships For all reasons whatsoever ... There is a pretty formula that links employees To all employers to fix any problem anytime Before it's over ... _______________________________________________________________
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
Dear Shruti, wish you a very Happy Friendship Day!
Forever, do you keep negativity at bay
I love you as a friend
We share a deeply emotional bond
You, can I trust with anything and everything
To me, does your friendship mean everything!
Dear Shruti, wish you a very Happy Friendship Day
May you always be happy, come what may
You are **** intelligent and hardworking
A person who stops at absolutely nothing
To get the job done
Never, will you be alone!!
Dear Shruti, wish you a very Happy Friendship Day
Many a time, are you away
However, never does that stop you from caring
Whether it be family or friends
You are a person, to whom can I go on listening
May your long talks never end!!
Dear Shruti, wish you a very Happy Friendship Day
I hope you had a wonderfully relaxing day
After all the hard work you have put in
Moreover, do you also do your very best
To keep yourself fit, time and again
May you clear with flying colours, every single test
Which life throws at you
Forever, will I be there, to help you!!
Dear Shruti, wish you a very Happy Friendship Day
Always will I root for you and Pradeep, come what may
The two of you are among my favourite couples
Your parents are also a beautiful couple
By the way, you are not simply my friend
My unofficial sister, you are
And for you and your family, will I always care
May Jesus bless you, you amazing human being
With anything and everything
Which you deeply desire
Do take care
And hope to meet you soon
Dear Shruti, wish you the Happiest Friendship Day again!!
Aug 4, 2024
Aug 4, 2024 at 8:23 AM UTC
a young rainforest has yet to know of the world
the harsh reality of mistrust, humiliation, and disappointment
but maybe thats the charm of it all
trees strung about in a wild fun mess of branches
smells of flowers and mildewy ferns on the floors
welcomes me to close my eyes and be comfortable
every little detail has its own story to tell
every little creature a character of its own
in between the plants it whispers to me
songs and tales of the forest's past, present, and future
the surface of it so bright and colorful
and the bottom so dark and wonderfully cool
for each drop of rain that falls feels warm against the skin
embracing me as one of its own
not knowing of what I have seen and felt before.
But that does not matter,
for the rainforest is handsome, compelling, and full of surprises,
it takes when it can and gives even more-
optimism that everything is alright,
that when I am in such a beautiful place,
there is no reason to worry-
in truly heartbreaking silence,
I think to myself-
I hope I never have to leave.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
WHAT ABOUT THE NEXT GENERATION
THE ONLY WAY TO GET TO THE NEXT GENERATION
IS GET A FLAMING COMPUTER, GET THE INTERNET, AND PAY TV
AND YOU CAN BE AS COOL AS ME, IF YA HAVEN’T GOT A COMPUTER
YOU ARE A COMPLETE LOSER, WHO IS A TAD BRAINLESS
NO THE COMPUTER IS THE SIGN OF THE NEXT GENERATION
NOT LITTLE YOUNG DUDES WHO ARE JEALOUS OF YA
NEH, THE COMPUTER IS THE GATEWAY, TO THE NEXT GEN, BABY
NOTHING IS GOING TO TAKE YOU THERE QUICKER, THAN A COMPUTER
A COMPUTER IS COOL, CAUSE IT SHOWS YOU WHERE ALL THE GREAT PARTIES ARE
WHEN YOUR FAVOURITE FOOTY TEAM IS PLAYING
IT SHOWS KIDS HAVING A BALL WITH YOUTUBE, BY PUTTING ON VLOGS
AND WRITING BLOGS AND YOU CAN DISPLAY YOUR ART ON A COMPUTER
THE WORLD GETS TO SEE IT, AS WELL AS WRITING, IT’S ****** FUN
FACEBOOK IS COOL AS WELL, YOU CAN DISPLAY ART ON THAT AS WELL
SO IF ANYONE SAYS COMPUTERS **** AND NOT THE NEXT GENERATION
THEY CAN GO AND **** A LEMON, AND I WILL BE AS CHEEKY AS I WANT
TO SHOW, THAT COMPUTERS, CAN TAKE YOU TO THE NEXT GEN FASTER
THAN ANY JOB THAT YOU DON’T WANT TO BE IN
I WANT TO BE AN ENTERTAINER, I AM BETTER, BUT DIFFERENT TO OTHERS WHEN IT COMES TO STYLE
HEY BABY, OOH YEAH, COMPUTERS CAN SLIDE YA TO THE NEXT GEN, YEAH
HEY BABY OOH YEAH, COMPUTERS CAN SLIDE YA TO THE NEXT GEN YEAH
YA SEE AS I SEARCH AROUND CYBER SPACE
I SEE SOME NICE LOOKING CHICKS, YOU MEAN, NICE, I SAID YEAH NICE
THEY ARE SO PRETTY, VERY PRETTY, HEY BABY, OOH YEAH OH YEAH
I WANNA PARTY WITH THE COOL PEOPLE HANGING ON CYBER SPACE
YOU SEE COMPUTERS ARE THE GATEWAY, TO THE NEXT GEN YEAH
AND WE OPEN UP A NICE COLD BEER, SHE’S SO BEAUTY
WONDERFULLY, DRESSED FOR THE OCCASION YEAH
COMPUTERS ARE FUN, NOT FOR THE SQUARES, WHO JUST WORKS IN DEAD END JOBS
FOR ME, COMPUTERS ARE THE KEY TO MY FUTURE
I AM NOT LIKE MY BIG KOOMARRI MAN OF A MATE, LYLE
I LOVE SOCIAL MEDIA, I AM COOL MAN, UP IN COMPUTER TERRITORY NOW, BUDDY BOY
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
I am proud to be a child of Christ, whom died and rose for me.
For without his sacrifice, all of my poems would be worthless.
About only dying here without any hope or joy or love in them.
But he did save me and others as well, so I do have true Hope.
So yes I am proud humbly proud of having been rescue by him.
For I am not saying this with pride but he has humble me with his love.
So yes I am by far so grateful to be a child of the True Living God.
I have seen so many wonderfully made and Awesome family.
That are my family through Christ my Wonderful Savior.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
i've been
reading poetry
ee cummings and--
sylvia plath
pretty pools of words filled with color
--and ducks
charles bukowski is a
***** old man
lots of ***** old
words
and images
but real dirt, not pretend
real's so hard to find
these days
they talk about love like it's
broken--painful--deadly--
always wonderfully beautiful
(like the beautiful snake whose
poison's killing you)
that's not
love
because it's falling asleep with warm breath on the back of your neck and your bed a little too small
because it's laughing so hard that you almost snort macaroni and cheese out your nose
because it's doing laundry and pausing just to notice how your clothes smell like her
because it's waiting alone, imagining how big you'll smile when she comes back - it's always bigger than you think.
because it's knowing that the pain's not part of love, it's part of being human
they don't know
nearly as much as they
think--
they do
i love--
baseball in the park when it's not too hot
(I play shortstop)
chocolate ice cream cones in the hot sun
(dripping down my hand)
flying kites in autumn winds
(the falling leaves make the difference)
sledding through the snow
(and crashing into snowbanks)
i love--
coca-cola
(in the glass bottles)
root beer
(with vanilla ice cream)
7-up
(it's better than sprite)
mountain dew
(caffeine!)
i love--
you
(and the soapy smell after you shower)
you
(making me laugh more)
you
(how much you care about people)
you
(and you let me, too)
that's my proof they
don't know
(what
they're talking about
that is)
so--
i think poetry
is overrated
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 10:08 PM UTC
Subdued and seduced by sounds so sultry
floating with fantastic phonetic finesse
vibrant voices vehicled via visages
the magical message making me a mess
each seconds surrenders me speechless
praying for the process of progress
kissing, caressing, conspire in concision
affection and adoration an admirable ambition
Subdued and seduced by sounds so sultry
floating with fantastic phonetic finesse
vibrant voices vehicled via visages
the magical message making me a mess
beautiful belles becoming begrime
rendered ready by my written rhyme
won with wonderfully whispered wit
foment flattery in a fanatic fit
Subdued and seduced by sounds so sultry
floating with fantastic phonetic finesse
vibrant voices vehicled via visages
the magical message making me a mess
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 5:39 PM UTC
*Story..
Stories
I have a story to tell
It's a tragic one as usual*
A day goes by. Silence reigns and birds cuckoo
While this happens..
Two people sit under a tree
Using it as a rendezvous
For usual meetings
They met...
Once...
In ten days
They enjoyed it
I helped another person
and he tried to help me
I did a better job of helping him
that's what I think..
Anyways, once they met
they enjoyed it
they would talk together
and climb a tree
Play with a dog, which was a
golden retriever
They are big!
It was a lot of fun
Often playing Videogames
like..
Mario kart..?
That was a day
and it happened on
an occasional basis
when both of them could spare some time
from their daily time consuming life
----------------------------------------------------------------
One day however
A bright sunny day
A sunday afternoon
filled with birds flying about
nearly the end of the school year
It was all going by wonderfully
We had met another time
because you called me
and told me to help you out
and just to relieve the stress
that the school year had put on us
We climbed a tree
with a rope on it
it was pretty tall
about 10 feet high
I remember talking about self harm..
..and ways to **** oneself
and I gave up climbing and jumped off
the rope
6 feet
straight down
on my back/ankles
It hurt like batshit crazy
but i told you I managed through it
then later
when talking to our friends
I let it slip
I told her about my failed attempt
I was really depressed after that
It actually FAILED!
Well, now more people knew about it
and these rumors spread fast
as you would know
I was still fine with school
just.. I became more depressed
My grades were fine
I was nearly at the end of the year
nearly there.
nearly
And then
I realized
that
Mockingbirds
are similar to humans
they don't talk much
at the time of crisis
but they remember
it, and pass it onwards
They don't lie.
Mockingbirds dont lie
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
Sometimes Life choices, can be a bitter pill to take.
Sometimes Life choices, can bring true Hope to Us.
Sometimes Life choices, feel unfairly ****** upon us.
Sometimes Life choices, the after things comes surprisely.
Sometimes Life choices, seems better till we see what they birthed.
Sometimes Life choices, are accepted out of punishment.
Because bad choices, do bring punishment with the choices.
Sometimes Life choices, can bring Great blessings with them.
For we accept, the good choices God shall reward Us wonderfully.
Jan 19, 2020
Jan 19, 2020 at 12:01 PM UTC
he wasn't
exactly
what I expected
him to be
he kept his hair short and messy,
wore funny clothes and enjoyed
comic books, Daft Punk and
ginger-lemon-tea-brewing
of all things
and bless,
he thought his earrings
made him seem tough
In the end, it was
his confidence
that won me over
his smiley eyes
so seamlessly dissolved
my doubts and skepticism
and took with
them,
unexpectedly,
my heart
the kisses he'd plant on my forehead would
drag me into
his silly world where
wonderfully weird hats were worn seriously
and music played on our
candy-coloured 2000s cd player
while we read together
on the couch
he offered to massage
my feet and I blushed and thought
that I was falling for him and
he laughed and pulled me
close into his chest
while I wept with joy
for I'd found
happiness
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 8:15 PM UTC
There is a sequence of small events, signs; that as they occur point us in the direction of the mid-winter festival. This morning: the first snow; iced rain, not the soft down-like floaty stuff, but hard crystal-shaped foot-crunching shards. Yesterday, it was on with the wooly hat, the padded waistcoat and a more than just sprightly walk in a park of leafless trees. Everywhere, a damp coldness.
Sitting companionably after the meal, a fire spitting in the hearth had brought a glow to her cheeks. She was replete with glowness, her speech dancing too and fro after the family phone calls of a Sunday night. Outside, the sound of wind against the house.
Settling herself against him, feet tucked under his reclining body, she tells him about her niece, a birthday girl just two last week. This little one was touchingly innocent of what happens on a birthday. She knew it was coming, next week, soon, then tomorrow. Imagine her the night before: just think you'll wake up and be two! And that's what this birthday business is? She wakes and there is something special in the air, her sister smile-full, bouncy with expectation. Her parents’ voices are louder than usual, there are bigger hugs and longer kisses. Birthday, birthday, birthday. Her grandparents arrive. More hugs. THEN her father appears with a cake! It's only just after breakfast, but the large people are having coffee and there's her juice cup and a cake! Birthday, birthday, birthday shouts her sister. For me, a cake for me? My cake? Daddy lights the candles! Oh, oh, oh. This is . . . and something wrapped in pretty paper is being handed to me. Her sister, being wonderfully sisterly shows her how to remove the wrapping. A book! Read it to me now, now, please. It's my birthday, now.
This is a sign he thinks later when in bed she folds herself to him, arranges his arms and hands to hold her into sleep, still glowing a little. This is surely a sign. A child's discovery of the birth day. The joy it brings, the way it lights up our lives. And never again will her father see quite that measure of surprise and delight in his daughter's face. Next year she'll be full of expectation, know all about birthdays . . and be three.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 1:56 AM UTC
You said my hat was snazzy
and wonderfully fun, one day
you came to see me and took my black hat
out to play ...
With in the distance of paradise
by the light that lines my vision
I saw you skipping down the path
you had my black hat in hand ...
Hurrying down the road
rising my voice just a touch
'stop my friend,' i yell
'what about my hat' ...
You played and felt my loving hat
calling me teling me you wish I was in it
like the dawns of moonlight
You stood my hat in hand
I really like my hat ..
Debbie Brooks 2014
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
Owl slept in the tree’s hollow
but the silly Grasshopper
on the branch outside
made incessant noise
‘Kind Sir,’ said Owl,
‘would you stop singing
and allow me to sleep?
I’m nocturnal
and sleep by day
and so I need some quiet now.’
Grasshopper
looked proud
and rubbed its hind femurs
against its fore-wings
and it said:
‘Ah, Sir Owl -
Eminent Naturalists have come
to record me make my most melodious songs
and they kept away, if you must know,
from your uncouth hooting!
So I will continue singing
and you may live in envy if you like.’
‘Oh it is most true,’
said Owl.
‘You sing most wonderfully
and I but screech.
But come in and I have
a potion
that the Goddess of Song
has just given me
that will soften my hooting
and bring your song to perfection.
You already sing like a sensation,
O Highly Sought-After Grasshopper –
you’ll be even more appreciated after….’
And straight Grasshopper
with a magnificent leap
jumped to Owl’s home;
and straight Owl ate the singing insect
and indeed Grasshopper
was even more appreciated after….
And it is whispered in the forests
Owl’s hooting improved
due to a certain potion
Owl had acquired
from the Goddess of Song
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 10:26 AM UTC
Pretty (adj):
1. pleasing or attractive to the eye, as by delicacy or gracefulness;
"Pretty" is a word that's been spewed at you since the day you were born,
A social standard set upon you that you had yet to even hear, but it was being used to describe you instantly;
A "pretty little girl", a "pretty face", "pretty eyes", "pretty smile", "pretty outfit",
Did anyone ever stop to wonder if you'd have a pretty soul?
What about the way you could be brought to tears at the thought of shaming homeless people or victims of abuse, how your heart felt like it was ripping out of your chest when you heard about someone who was struggling,
They didn't seem to care that you tested highest in compassion, they just wanted to know where you got your dress from.
As you grew older the adjective turned from an innocent compliment to what seemed like a snide remark,
The word "pretty" began to eat you from the inside out every time it was said
like you should measure your worth in how delicate others find you;
You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it turned into an adjective that was only associated with girls that were more than average but less than beautiful,
You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it became an antonym of strong,
like "pretty" girls were things that would break if you talked too loud, as if loving a "pretty" thing could never be synonymous with loving a durable or sturdy or resilient thing.
D.A. Sharp once said
"You weren't meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don't let anyone ever simplify you to just "pretty"."
And so when someone kindly placed the word in a sentence referring to you you learned to automatically put it into quotations because they were just trying to be nice,
They didn't know they were reducing you to outer beauty, that "pretty" seemed less like a compliment the more it was said, like people couldn't figure out another way to describe you,
As if God hadn't already intricately woven the threads of your DNA, as if he hadn't perfectly tinted every hair on your head to be its crisp burnt color or hand painted the irises of your eyes,
No, "pretty" could no longer cut it.
Because you had been made for bigger and better things,
Those "pretty" eyes of yours will one day see things that God hadn't originally intended anyone to have to see, and those "pretty" hands of yours will have to pick up the pieces of a heartache that God had never wanted you to know and put them back together, and those "pretty" lips of yours are the same lips that will stand in front of sin and tell it that you have chosen Jesus.
Because "pretty" is fine,
but you have been fearfully and wonderfully made, a masterpiece of the Creator.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
a ladybug in spacious blue
splattering specks of red and black
with miniature aerial stunts
that speckle through uncaring air
it takes a keen eye to notice
a ladybug in spacious blue
a tiny snippet of fancy
in the otherwise simple sky
whizzing past wonderfully so
no trail or perfect plan concerns
a ladybug in spacious blue
her patterns flying forward fast
unhindered by specks of debris
fitting an insect debonair
sweetly dressed for a world's party
a ladybug in spacious blue
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
Like some pitted, coal-black dragon egg,
it sits among the other fruits, exuding weight.
It draws my eyes away from the obsequious apple and banal pear,
its shape curving elegantly between their contours.
As my hand clasps around it, I feel its skin
of sinful reptilian texture.
As I place it upon the cutting board, a hundred possibilities
spring to mind.
What will I do with this trove that lies before me?
I will take a knife
in one hand
and the avocado in the other.
I know that, like gold it will be heavy,
and will feel soft without being so.
The knife breaks the skin.
Never has so smooth a wound been made,
as the blade circumnavigates the centre.
And with a twist,
it falls open.
A blinding springtime dawns on my eyes, revolving
around a dark sun,
and the absence of one.
So perfect these halves look, side by side,
the only two pieces
of a sultry puzzle.
There is no blast of stinging scents.
They are the enigmatic philanthropists of the fruit world,
bestowing their riches quietly,
without great shows of favour.
The first long, horizontal slice slides free
and lies, curving wonderfully in and out.
Fingers reach down and arm moves up,
lips part.
The moment the vibrant green meets desiring red, I breathe again.
Nothing else in this world has such a wealth
of subtle freshness,
or spreads as soft as morning sunlight.
And yet it is never airy or thin,
but carries an embracing gravity.
I open my eyes.
The rest of the fertile crescent awaits me.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Tomorrow morning they are going to take them,
what am I going to do?
He says it doesn’t matter to him, because I have a pretty face.
In all the years we've been married, he’s never told me I had a pretty face.
I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle this.
Hell, I don’t think I'm going to be able to handle this.
God ****** I am going to loose my hair,
I am gonna loose my beautiful ******* hair, then everyone will know.
People will put sanitizer on their hands after they shake mine.
All my friends and family will treat me differently.
They’ll feel sorry for me, they won’t know what to say.
And then there’ll be those who will say too much, or the wrong thing.
"I’ll pray for you", some will say,
But I know what they are thinking, they think....
"that is what she gets for drinking her martinis and smoking her ***
Some will even say it is God’s will.
**** God!
He is stealing my beauty,
my wonderfully gorgeous **** my hair.
They are a part of me.
I don’t give a **** what a man thinks about my *******
that they are **** or voluptuous,
they are a part of me.
And now, like a side of beef,
they are going to section me up and take them from me.
What will they do with them?
I mean after they biopsy.
Can I have them to bury?
Sorry, I know that wasn't necessary, but I am mad.
I am mad and afraid, I am so afraid.
I know my husband, he will never be the same.
He doesn’t **** me with his eyes closed, my **** turn him on.
But then any woman’s **** turn him on.
When he reaches to touch them, there’ll be nothing there.
I’ll look like a little boy, nothing.
Maybe I have identified with them too much,
I have made them a big part of my personality.
I've fed my children with them, my boyfriends fought over them,
they have got me into and out of trouble more than once.
**** I am going to have to get a whole new wardrobe.
And now, in the morning
they are going to cut them off of me
and put them in a stainless steel operating room bowl.
Like chicken fat.
Why do I feel like this,
I didn’t cry when the dentist pulled my wisdom teeth?
What if he told me I had to or else I would die, I’d pulled them myself?
I trim my nails, and get my hair cut and dyed.
I exfoliate my skin.
I lost 10lbs last year and I didn’t shed one tear,
my ******* will weigh more than that.
But I am loosing something else,
I am loosing normal.
I'll have to find a new normal.
I am loosing myself
and replacing it with a different person.
I’ll be one of them,
I’ll be a survivor,
a hero.
I'll hold hands with other survivors and walk 10 miles
and wear a **** load of pink.
Hey, but I don't look too bad in pink.
later this week a friend is going to have a double mastectomy. These are just a few of the words I have collected from other breast cancer survivors. I had to do something for her. My hope is that we become more aware of the fear and pain that breast cancer victims go through.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC