"youthfulness" poems
A man is like a flower
Starts with a bud
Blossoms into its nature
Natural ecstasy and perfection
In time it wears out too
Finally falls off the tree
A natural process
A natural phenomenon
Naturally the man
See as a flower
All the nature of being
To the base is the same
The intelligence the man puts into saying
That he is only the creature of importance
And everything in the world are the resource
Resource to be consumed by himself
Is the false flag he is raising
And is in the denial of the very nature
Anything which is resonant
And synchronous to the nature
Has the time in nature to the eternity
Whereas if not
In accordance to the nature
Sooner or later
On the verse of decay
On the verse of extinction
I see the human race is in the path of extinction
As civilization denying nature rather than glorifying
Human beings are far from the true essence
And are not synchronizing in the heart
Of the very nature
The so called intelligence
is what humans praise and glorifying
A lot full of ****
And it is a shame
We see the population of human species
To rise and rise
So may presume the statement
I just stated to be false
But seeing the thought processes
And so called intelligence
Is setting the human species
To a sense of decay
The step to the human race to demolish its own race
Is a unjustified intelligence in itself
The truth and laws of nature
Being in shade
Humans incorporating thoughts
As a tool of destruction
Rather than construction
In the field of criticism rather than motivation
In the field of extinction rather than sustainability
In the field of destruction rather than collaboration
And effort in maintaining the continuity
Of equilibrium and resonance with the nature
On the contrary
Making critics and complain about the others
Not realizing all are the part of the whole
Is creating a challenge to the nature
Going off beat with the nature.
We shall know
Anything not synchronous
And not resonant to the nature
Nature wipes out sooner or later
We cannot accept the very fact it is true
Even seeing our own life
As a child
The bud to the flower
The youth
The perfection in being and entire existence
The new ideas and new world
The fruit of generation brings about
The generation to come
To fertilize the seeds of the existence
The old age
To be renewed thoughts
Nature wipes out as per the plan
of its own
Accept it as a reality
As it is the truth
The sharpness of flower
Remembered as the youthfulness of flower
The bud is treated emotionally
With care as it is to be the perfection
In the time to come
The flower to be wiped out is respected
As it was once a perfection
Once roared the magnificence of itself
Upon this very world
The being-wiped flower doesn’t ask
For its claim in the now world
And indulge the new with its now state
But appreciate the perfection once it had
Make believe the youthful flower to blossom
And accept its own existence in the present.
Every species and beings
Are in the nature of being
We are no different from the other species
We are no superior and at the same time no inferior
To the other species
And not the other species to us humans
Everybody and everything
Is the part of the whole
The whole is the nature itself.
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
i watched you dance
in the middle of the neon lit room
and as much as i loved you
i could not help but feel envious.
there was jealousy i could have sworn would **** me
jealousy for the way you could
move your body to the beats of youthfulness
jealousy for the way you could
smile and laugh with slightly drunken people
you didn't even know
jealousy for your confidence in the restless crowds
jealousy for the way you acted so carelessly on friday nights
the way i wish i could
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
*Hamari Sanson Mein Aaj Tak
Woh Heena Ki Khushbhoo Mehak Rahi Hai*
*Labon Pe Naghme Machal Rahe Hain
Nazar Se Masti Jhalak Rahi Hai*
**O’ even today within my breathes
That sweet smell of henna is still lingering
Upon the lips songs are way-warding
And with mischief, the glances are twinkling**
*Woh Mere Nazdeek Aate Aate
Haya Se Ek Din Simat Gaye Thay
Mere Khayalon Mein Aaj Tak
Woh Badan Ki Daali Latak Rahi Hai*
**O’ inching towards me,
One day he shyly gathered himself
Till today, within my thoughts
His body's youthfulness is still swaying**
*Sada Jo Dil Se Nikal Rahi Hai
Woh Sher-o-Naghmon Mein Dhal Rahi Hai
Ke Dil Ke Aangan Mein Jaise
Koi Ghazal Ki Dhaandhar Khanak Rahi Hai*
**O’ this cry coming from within my heart
Finds its way into verses and songs
As if in the courtyard of my heart
Beat of a poem is throbbing**
*Tadap Mere Bekharar Dil Ki
Kabhi To Unpay Asar Kare Gi
Kabhi To Woh Bhi Jaleinge Isme
Jo Aag Dil Mein Dahek Rahi Hai*
**O’ my restless heart's tremor
Will surely affect him one day
Someday, he too will burn
In the fire of my heart which is raging**
— Translated by Jamil Hussain, Sung by Noor Jahan
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Persephone runs amok, her hair caught on tendrils of wind,
eyes lucid as emeralds; aware, alive.
Hope is sketched on her face as if drawn by whoever paints the sunset,
pulsating with the reflection of neon cities, rolling countryside,
the adrenaline-pumping moment before a rollercoaster’s descent.
She is high on happiness, running across her plane of existence
with only her converse sneakers and extraordinary ambitions.
Persephone knows she owes her unbridled youthfulness to Demeter.
Demeter, who is stern but unconditionally loving,
selfless, for when she hears her daughter’s plea for food she stops
her spoon midway through a bite.
When Persephone struggles with the perpetual torture of arithmetics,
Demeter’s sheer intelligence is astonishing, the iridescent reflection of
Persephone’s aspirations, for a problem to Demeter is merely
a hidden solution, a failure only a victory in waiting.
If only Demeter knew how her words are of the highest value,
her pleased smile the only affirmation to a job well done.
Her love cradled in the nook of Persephone memories,
every moment she is infinitely grateful to co-exist,
grateful for the Universe to award her the simple pleasure
of loving her parent with purity and stripped of conditions.
As Persephone runs, she glances back for a mere second,
in her smile is the mirror of her naivety,
she still believes that her Gods will save her from being a slave to
the inevitable corruption on Earth and Olympus,
for she is sure her untarnishable love for Demeter is her protector.
Yet, you know how the story goes.
In an instant, Persephone is falling into the Underworld, on the back of a beautiful monster into inescapable darkness.
But even then, she holds on to Demeter in thought and in prayer.
After adulthood, marriage, queenship, a childhood gone in a flash,
after her hands become worn with calluses, her face a series of rivers,
her mind expansive, her goals reached, Persephone knows she owes her unbridled youthfulness to the first person she ever loved.
I love you Dad, Happy Father’s Day.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 10:45 AM UTC
the day i left for good he wrapped me in an inescapable bear
hug that made me feel like i was
gonna stop breathing in
3
2
1...
we listened to a whole lotta
tom petty which is the reason why
whenever i'm scanning through
the radio on those drives i go on too often
that lead to nowhere and
i hear "refugee" or "free fallin"
i skip.
i read a lot to him and he
always listened to everything i had to say
and the 290th time of the day that i'd say
**** and everytime i said something even remotely
twisted a small smirk would
gradually paint on his lips
and then he'd laugh
and say it was a good thing we loved each other
otherwise he would think i was severely
****** up in the head.
he loved my heart shaped sunglasses
and he said i made him feel
like he was living in a time warp
where it was 1989 every millisecond
of every waking hour of every day
and i loved his eternal youthfulness
that sent fireworks flying through my
central nervous system.
and when he released me from the
wrath of his arms he promised
that we were gonna sit on his
back porch and crack open
some brews at midnight
and tell stories when i came back home.
i miss him more than the sun misses
the moon in the morning light
my partner in crime,
my adrenaline ******
my sagittarius.
-z. vega
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
Consumed with thoughts of innocence, youthfulness and vigor
Never understood the attraction between a boy and a girl
Never understood for I was just a slender spoon...
Writing, playful - never thought I'd act the fool.
In my heart there was nothing.
Nothing of substance, thought, not even a care.
There was no one…
Just a slender spoon living just to survive and not to be seen.
Then I traveled and laid bare my eyes intertwining with yours.
Never a word... a word we didn't say for you were strange...
Strange to my eyes and I was too strange for yours.
So we looked on, clueless of the storm we'd cause today.
And so under that hat you smiled at first glimpse of my beauty.
A black woman, innocent but not without fault.
How could that be...ahhhh?
Then you became curious...
Curious about that slender spoon and what she was capable of.
You now know her thoughts and I...and she knows yours.
Unaware... that man under the hat, that black felted hat would later be a man with a ring...
That slender spoon... the beauty that shone under the sun would no longer be naive, indifferent… but she later became someone who had your interest at heart.
....that slender spoon later became a woman with a ring and the man under that hat became the one… the one who gave that ring,
That man under the hat....
The masculinity who wore that hat
…It was the man who wore that felted hat.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC
one dandelion in the sun
ghost white shell turned to red as the
fire god sets
tomorrow the wind will blow the seeds away
so one dandelion becomes many.
But until then that barren stem shall stand until it
eventually withers and is over taken by the surroundings
its grace lost amongst the blue-grass
never to see its offspring, and stand in a field
turned yellow not by the sun
but the vigor of youthfulness.
One dandelion in the sun
Not knowing what tomorrow brings,
But enthralled to see the setting sun.
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 8:33 AM UTC
Oh ROSE! How immeasurably I adore you!
So expressive, you are! Eloquent and evocative!
Robed in red, you say to the world, “I love you,”
And speak all about courage and respect.
In white, purity and innocence are your names;
Then you’re a bride, heavenly, and in silence;
You’re clothed in secret silence and youthfulness,
And humility that commands world’s reverence.
Your pink is happiness; dark pink says “thank you”;
In yellow, it brings joyfulness and friendship;
With red added, the world would fall in love;
And orange—it’s full of desire and enthusiasm.
Red-and- yellow is jovial; peach, modesty;
Coral is desire; and lavender, love at first sight.
But you’re never black, for you know, it is sad.
How gifted a poet you are! A great symbolist!
A bud in red is purity and loveliness coupled,
One in white, emerges elegantly as a girl in her teens;
And a bud, if thorn-less, calls for love at first sight.
Oh, your magic tricks! How great a conjurer you are!
If single, you’re devotion; twin says, Marry me;
Six, suggest need to be loved; eleven says, Truly loved;
While in thirteen, you say I’m your secret admirer.
Oh! It’s wizardry! So overwhelming! So breathtaking!
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
every so often
they threw the seal a fish
though it was only a small fish
the seal would jump for joy
he would wiggle his fins
his nose, his eyes
his space coming alive
and from his landing
he would dive into the water
with the youthfulness of a pup
diving after that little silver
like it was for the first time
his eyes wider than the moon
as he streaked across the pool
with pent up
exuberance
so graceful
and in rhythm
his back to the spectators
but not really
as his moon peeks through
the surface
back towards the smiles
the cheers, the applause
it meant the world to him
receiving
the acceptance
and acknowledgment
the likes, the love
the words from the butterflies
descending on his blooms
for
he sees and hears
feels their touches
his splashes of fate
leaving his face golden
and beholden
in the face of sorrow
he circles back to the surface
pockets of bubbles rising
like his love for the audience
that little silver
wiggles of his daily grace
now his sustenance
his nose, his eyes
his shrill coming alive
and now back at his landing
animated
and blessed
his moon shining at the spectators
and in all sincerity
he lets out an arf, arf, arf
intonations
and sublimity
dancing in the moonlight
thankyou
Logan Robertson
10/14/2018
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
maybe one day i’ll catch you
between
lovers
with
your famous smile
and a bottle
between us
and
catch
the moment
we lost years ago
maybe the sun won’t
go all the way
down
and we can sit
forever,
suspended between
today
and
tomorrow
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
You were once one of the first female supreme court judges.
An engineer, professor, politician.
You were a loving mother,
The perfect husband.
Life can be cruel though.
Time has stolen your individuality.
I watch as your wife leads your hand down the hall.
To your room, you remain suprised everytime.
The pain, in your families eyes,
Camoflauged with a smile.
As you introduce yourself as if you have never met.
You ask me where you are,
Why you're here.
I'll tell you, but you never believe me.
I try to explain over and over,
The shock is new everytime.
I take care of you,
I try to help you through this chapter of your life.
By the time I meet you,
You are not who you were.
Your mind is lost in time and my face is always new.
Looking at your pictures I try to see how you were.
Try to imagine the strength, the youthfulness.
I try to make you feel as whole as a stranger can.
I am here with you day after day.
Over time you become like family to me.
The disease has taken you,
I wish I could change all that.
But instead I'll just sit here,
Listen to your story of strung up words that make no sense.
I'll smile when you do
Look sympathetic when I need to.
You are a human being with the strength of a hundred men.
You have had the diagnosis told to you.
You were so aware of what you would become.
I am here to help you
I respect who you were, and who you are.
I try to make your last days a little better, easier.
I'm your nurse.
I hope I can help.
Even if it is just for a moment.
I hope you know,
What an amazing soul still resides in you.
I wish you freedom, memories and peace when it's your turn to go.
And I welcome who takes your place.
Never forgetting your individuality.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC
My list of antonyms of death,
Include not just life or birth,
Still not limited to just alive,
Some others I include in the list.
Youth is one of those,
Old humans never get,
Unyouthful they become.
Marriage is a name for youthfulness,
Youth never fades in faithfulness.
Loneliness never haunts few lucky,
Over the years of separation,
Veering away from love never,
Espousing the spouse forever.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 1:25 AM UTC
Today he's so drunk,took a step forward
And two steps back
Drunk something transparent last night
Came to work today with tough luck
Told stories,when he was in puberty
While listening to a song,entitled
Bohemian Rhapsody
Though he was quick,
And full of strength and youthfulness
He is old and tired
And purely ruthless
He hates the songs, that he can sing
He talks about the strength and bronze he had those days,
I think of him as a powerful man,
Someone to look up to as a matured man
But,I can notice his grim and despair
Running through his eyes like ,a quantum flare
I sent him home with all my trust
Hoping to see him tomorrow with all my luck
Hope to work and drink with him while being tough
For he is the one who builds my house
My dungeon,and where I can keep my flock
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
Youthfulness in time
A lad full of energy
Chasing
The treasures and wonders of
A newly world
Feeling so freely
Nor vigilance, nor dilemma
Seeing everything through
A vision of excitement
As a seagull
Gliding across the oceanshores
Arouse
For cultural experiences
Until now
For I am old, but wise
To know
How people can be
Oct 1, 2009
Oct 1, 2009 at 12:35 PM UTC
Thy effigy was so charming
It can grips a heart
Thy face of youthfulness
It can tranquilized a war
Many roses envied thee
Their complaints was loudly burst
That blessed was unjust
That you owned a beauty, to them ugliness
Thy prettiness a weapon
Can slave a kingdom
But it feared someone
The monstrous beast - the time
Thy beauty was rotten
The one that allured thousand kings
Thy effulgence doom
A star that used to be dream...
written: July 31, 2001 at 7:00 pm
Mysterious Aries
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
the swell of
youthfulness,
the bloom
on your lips-
stop.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 7:58 PM UTC
the wine
the words
the screaming torrents
all
groove cutters
some sharp
unripened, immature,
but drag marks made
because they,
rain rutted, sun baked
features permanent,
landscape of and on
parent child
the one
the same
some seasoned
accident chanced to breathe,
some ingenuous clever,
fully formed,
immature only
in the
youthfulness of the pain
for a lifetime
always on the tip of tongue
lingering
the child struck the parent
seventeen stitches on the head
the parent struck the child,
pleading mocking begging
his life to take
charge
neither pressed
charges
for
the wine
the words
the screaming torrents
all
grooves cut
had charged them
both
had changed them
both
thirty years plus
of immaturity,
testimony,
their sentences
are being served concurrently
nothing has changed
only the depth of the grooves
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
The war.
It came and went.
The youthfulness of innocence came.
None knew what it meant.
Mere children marched forwards into war.
Single boys to never love.
Single sons, one or two.
A thousand or more if only they knew.
Lost boys.
Missing men.
Never again, such sad refrain.
Respectively nodding to those of The Somme.
Europe in chaos.
Never again.
(C) LIVVI
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
There lies a picture on the mantle
of my grandfather, my step-father's
father, clad in U.S. Navy fatigues
and grinning slightly, almost a
smirk. The year is 1960-something
as he enlists for Vietnam and is
shipped overseas on the USS
Corral Sea to load sidewinders
into fighter planes that ignite and
**** It happens so fast.
It happened so fast. Two months
of time reduced to blinks and
minute-long visits. This house could
be cold as Mt. Meru's peak and I
would hardly notice. The brain has
ways of placing things on autopilot.
His life has come to pass and I am
left to wonder. I am not sure I ever
truly knew the man. I heard stories,
his helicopter shot down in Vietnam,
his E&E; north of the ** Chi Minh and
how he owned a gun shop on Main
St. in the town I came to call home
before it was my home. I cannot hear
his whispering, small wind of existence
sidewinding away from me and my
youthfulness. In small time I've come
to find life is meaningful if you take time
to make it so.
The day of his funeral is beautiful,
sunny and mild and full of breeze.
The gas tank of my mother's car is
close to empty and I am worried of
worldly things, will we make it and
when can we fill up again. 21 guns
gives my heart a needed beating.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
Recollections on Chaliyar.
In youthfulness was Chaliyar.
As I saw her next , from afar
Amidst the greenery was, she
Dancing in pleated clothes.
In spotlight of the setting sun
In tune the Air that hummed
On rail the wheels trumpeted
Gallery across the river I stood
Watching her”jahiliat” life moves
Lured all by giggle and smile
Ripples, eddies her beauty spots
She was mine I was hers!
Oh! My Chaliyar, recall, whence
We started and parted;
Made our veins venomous.
By-gone are by-gone-
God loves and pardons ;
He is with them that pardons
God won’t hear our prayer
If we keep deaf ear to prayer.
Unrelenting oars push a yacht.
The fume of trade shrouded me
With the smoke of train chocked
Down in water I plunged, yelled
Help, Help Oh! helpless yelp.
THE TIME rippled, wriggled
Coiled around while none
But Allah held me around.
On a delta I lay bare; hence
I write on rights we need.
……….
Note : Chaliyar is a river in northern Kerala, India, once most polluted.
“Jahiliat’ is an Arabic word means uncultured/impure period in life.
Allah is the name to denote the Almighty Creator that all religions expected to worship.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Immortal.
Oh, yes, he is immortal.
Immortal in his youthfulness indeed!
He shalt age and grow but never change;
he shalt wane and wither just in pain!
Just like a stubborn day rainfall-
ah! which remains a thick stifling veil
to our young sky, and its starlights-
like a loyal fence and its old window;
sitting and hoping that endings shalt never show
Yes, he shalt but still look the same tomorrow.
Ah! His eyes but a way down to my soul;
which I find lone but beguiling!
Pangs of endurance and blighting pain-
all vanish soon as I catch the sight of 'im again!
Oh! And with an indolent smile so comely;
he shalt answer up all my queries vividly!
Brilliance and height but with his tones;
but of a wit firm as an obedient stone-
he washes me of all my doubts,
fears, and worries of my small thoughts.
Amidst the decaying weary roses,
and those pallid old-time posters
he is but my friend, so jolly and bright like me.
He shalt stand there with shy feelings
next to the bustling stairs in the mornings.
And out doth I venture on errands-
so late that I need nearly run!
Greeting me there he smiles again-
and all day shalt his picture remain!
O, how I adore his cherry-like lips-
full of secrets, brave rays, and twists!
He is my immortal sun and star-
the flow that fills, and rises my heart.
He is my undying day and night-
to my thunder, he's brown starlight!
Ah! He is corrupting me again with love-
but in his eyes doth I find clarity!
Clarity, my dear, a bright tenderness and promise
that no other lover can surmise.
Oh, my whole sweetness-canst thou hear me
scream and pray for thee?
Ah, how that bunch of wordless gazes
brimming with startling eyelashes-
when thou peered into my moonless sun;
thrilled through me and proved us one.
And ah! My young sailor, be but my dawn to me-
when nights are lies and dusks are unfree.
Shield me on gray mountaintops-
hold my hand as I stroll amongst the shops.
Heap on me some flowers!
How betwixt those icy morning showers-
shalt thou retreat to my bower.
With a ring of blissful laughter-
and the joy of a new prudent lover;
shalt we entwine just together
and celebrate our glad encounter!
Meanwhile with conscience thy entreat-
that the vow of union I repeat-
and bringst thy heart which hast made me blind-
and knit thy pure love into mine.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
M IS FOR MAYA A WOMAN OF GREAT RESPECT. SHE HAD A WAY OF COMFORTING YOU, UPON BEING UPSET.
A IS FOR ABILITY SHE USED TO WRITE POETRY, AS IT CAME INTO HER HEAD. SHE NEED SOMEONE TO CARRY THE TORCH, NOW THAT SHE IS DEAD.
Y IS FOR YOUTHFULNESS, EVEN THE YOUNG PEOPLE CANNOT HIDE. JUST TO BE AROUND THEM, PRODUCED HAPPY TEARS IN HER EYES.
A IS FOR AUTHORITY THAT SHE POSSESSED, AS SHE PROUDLY WALKED BOLD. THERE WAS NOTHING ABOUT MAYA ANGELOU, THAT CAME ACROSS AS COLD.
ANGELOU IS HER LAST NAME, EVEN THE PRESIDENT RECOGNIZE. SHE WAS THAT TYPE OF WOMAN, HE WOULD HAVE STAND BY HIS SIDE.
BY, SANDRA JUANITA NAILING
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Fresh grape, picked from the vine.
My chocolate haired beauty.
Will you be mine?
My chocolate haired beauty,
With lips of fine wine.
What is my resistance to undress you with my mind?
Shoulders barren,
gorgeous is she.
Which stirrs a great mystery within side of me.
Graceful, vibrant and youthful is she.
What are you trying to say to me?
I AM he, from the depths of my soul shall yee shall see.
With your youthfulness and sacred divinity.
My chocolate haired beauty,
set me free from my doubts, shame and fears.
All that separates me from thee.
Oct 12, 2024
Oct 12, 2024 at 4:24 PM UTC
I will not call you my baby,
Until I can be your only baby.
You maneuver around a subject
With the litheness of a danseur.
Though I would like to love you,
If you would let me love you,
Loneliness has never been what drives me.
It is love to which I answer.
I can see the youthfulness,
And much more, for my sleuthfulness.
Are you seeking any other than me,
Who is eager to applaud as to centre stage you bound?
For just a while more, I wait for first frame.
It could be so grand to see how you move your frame.
I have wondered if your dance would be as spry
As the clever way you manage to avoid.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC