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Unadorned Truth
The splendor of nakedness
Truth is like a beaker of unarmed spring water
Truth refreshes
Truth vitalizes
Truth liberates
A half-full beaker of truth
Is like a flowing tributary of mistrust
Is like a fearful lake of drowned love
Is like a trickle of intravenous venom
A beaker of fortified untruth
Is like ravenous cancer
Is like truth incarcerated
Is like fangs without the venom
Unadorned truth is the splendor of nakedness
poem by Toney Brooks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Ornaments
10/23/10
There is a Christmas ornament that can not be seen
It is a hidden Christmas ornament between you and me.
It is not an ornament that you can hang from a tree
This ornament lives in our hearts
And like a crystal it can be torn apart.
It is as soft and as beautiful as any you’d see on a tree
But the difference is, it’s between you and me.
This ornament is a symbol of our love
And it is not man made, but it is something
That we could take to our graves.
This ornament has more colors than a rainbow
And it’s worth much more than gold.
It is something that we feel
Not something that we hold.
I join my hands together and stretch them
Out towards you, there is nothing laying there
That can be seen by the naked eye
But if you look deep- my heart you will find.
So to all people- let this be the gift that we share
For all the world to see.
The beauties “that are within you and me“.
it is something that you can not mold or bend
For it is heaven sent.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As It Was And As It Is
You didn't see her nakedness so,
Don't paint her nakedness;
You didn't see her face so,
Don't paint her face;
You didn't see her breasts so,
Don't paint her breasts;
Rather, tell her story as it was and as it is!
And always try to tell the truth,
For the truth about life is always much needed.
This case around needs the facts and the truth,
This muse around needs your help and your truth,
So tell the story of what you really saw about her!
And, nothing but the truth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pleasant One
Clan by clan,
Kin by kin,
One by one,
The store of Bohan!
And like the coastline of great love.
The scorpion passed by near the lion,
But his best-man took away his wife;
And, the story went out through the village.
Customary,
To entice her;
Of a feast,
To entice him;
But, her bride-mate took away his husband!
And, the story went out through the village.
Pleasant one,
To the land of my birth;
Of mercy and truth,
But this woman is from Bethlehem.
This man is your guest and,
This woman is my guest;
Yes, the one with her hands on the threshold!
But, take me to the land of peace.
A man of substance,
A woman of substance,
To the cave of Adullam;
And like your nakedness in the land of your muse,
But, the story went out through the village.
To the great well of Sechu!
Your mother's nakedness;
To the customary seat,
Your father's nakedness;
To shoot three arrows to this side,
Your brother's nakedness;
To sit by the stone of Ezel,
Your sister's nakedness;
And like the muse of the new moon! !
But, to lay naked all day and night,
For, i am old and grey-headed.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Identity would seem to be the garment with which one covers the nakedness of the self, in which case, it is best that the garment be loose, a little like the robes of the desert, through which one's nakedness can always be felt, and, sometimes, discerned. This trust in one's nakedness is all that gives one the power to change one's robes.
quote by James Baldwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Signature
Why sign an agreement without the conscience to know the terms?
But this is the way of life in one's own kingdom.
Please watch and read before you sign up,
For you may easily expose your nakedness to the other party;
And it is my obligation to tell you the truth.
Read it well before you sign up,
For i don't want you to expose your nakedness;
And many are those who have made mistakes in signing up.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Can't Top Me!
You can't top me!
Like you did when you did it.
And you did and you hit it,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
.
You can't top me,
Like you did when you did it.
And you did and you hit it,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
You can't top me,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
You can't top me,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
You can't top me,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
With a beggin' not to miss it if you could.
And when we move our hips...
In the nakedness,
Feeling all around and casting shadows.
And in the nakedness,
The rhythm over heats.
And in the nakedness,
We do it with passion
And in the nakedness,
We do it with passion...
In the nakedness.
The rhythm over heats.
You can't top me!
Like you did when you did it.
And you did and you hit it,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
.
You can't top me,
Like you did when you did it.
And you did and you hit it,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
That 'nakedness'...
You can't top me!
And in the nakedness,
The rhythm over heats.
And in the nakedness,
The rhythm over heats.
And in the nakedness,
The rhythm over heats.
And in the nakedness,
The rhythm over heats.
You can't top me,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
You can't top me,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
You can't top me,
With a beggin' not to miss it!
With a beggin' not to miss it if you could.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truth Through Repetition
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Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
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through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sickness II
I am sick lying on your hospital bed,
So you can play with my nakedness if you want to;
Because this is the only time that you can see my nakedness!
For this sickness had made it possible.
Sickness, oh sickness! !
Sickness had made it possible for you to see my nakedness;
If not, you can't even smell my sight at anytime.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Stubborn Wishful Missions
As exposed as truth has become,
To lay stripped in raw nakedness...
Under a clear Sun...cloudless!
And without a shadow to cast,
The appearance of its existence...
As had been done in the past,
By those passing to barter shared doubts...
There are those still refusing,
To see truth for what it is.
And they gather together,
In stubborn wishful missions...
Hoping their prayers will chase truth away,
For something that is more suitable...
That will keep their delusions fed.
As exposed as truth has become,
With nothing left to be said or read to be done...
Between lines to redefine its existence or content.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Ornament
never really meant to volunteer
felt the urge to stretch after a yawn
and accidentally raised my hand
i just want to be her special
someone who will never pioneer
i prefer to watch the mudd break off her heels
and turn into cement
i just want to be her ornament
her shadow seems much cooler
camouflage myself
and plan a splendid entrance
i just want to be her situation pending expectation...
i just want to be her ornament
i never really meant to volunteer
i fought the urge to stretch after a yawn
and accidentally lost my head
i just want to be her exploitation and abbreviation...
i just want to be her ornament
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(V - 2009) The Truth of the Truth
The Sages and Seers
That be and have been
Cannot have seen
The truth of the Truth!
What they see as Truth
Is Truth merely
It’s not really
The truth of the Truth!
The Ultimate Truth
Cannot be known
We aren’t that grown –
The truth of the Truth!
We’re part of the Truth
We’re trying to see
We’re yet so tiny –
The truth of the Truth!
Though hard and great
The pains we give
We cannot outlive
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to you once
Remains not the same
So changing the game –
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to a man
Is not Truth to all
That’s what we call
The truth of the Truth!
These thoughts as I pen
It’s Truth to me
It’s to me only
The truth of the Truth!
Oh Lucy
We love nakedness more than covering ourselves in this world,
But my love is ascending from the east with the untimely figs;
And the palm branches of your love are all that i need to see.
My love is to all nations, tribes, peoples and tongues;
And of the shame of your nakedness that is shared by many!
But do anoint your eyes with eyelids that you might see,
And don't let me spew you out of my mouth like the beast.
Oh Lucy! Why are you sharing your nakedness with all the men? !
For many have come on this love and i have seen enough,
But to cover yourself is better than the sins around you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sarkodie
Sarkodie, Rome was not built in a day!
So it is time for us to repent so as to gain eternity.
Why should i use your nakedness?
When i only came here to push you through;
History is with us all because of our sins,
So why should i see your nakedness? !
When i only came around to help you through.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope is nature's veil for hiding truth's nakedness.
quote by Alfred Nobel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty Need Not Be Truth
A beautiful house need not be a home,
a beautiful person need not be humane,
a beautiful book may have writings profane,
a beautiful office building may be rife
with dishonesty and shame.
A beautiful dress may not impress,
a beautiful bag may be filled with trash,
a beautiful ornament need not be of gold,
a beautiful car may never get sold.
We all know too well -
“All that glitters is not gold”.
Keats said: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all…”
But beauty need not be truth -
We need to realize this before we fall.
24 June 2010
1: 30 pm
poem by Gita Ashok
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Nakedness
In the winter house you will meet her garden of love and,
In the summer house you will meet her nakedness!
And like the message of the fowls of the air who do view us all.
With my soul i have desired you my love,
For you are naked under the apple tree of love;
With my love i will be with you always,
For your nakedness is before me like a film!
But i saw the face of a man, a woman and a child within.
Old and patched,
My life is like the gragons of the sea!
But being crafty and deceitful is your love,
For you are always naked in the heat of the summer.
Her nakedness,
And of the lust of the flesh that is always seen around;
But try to learn from the double walls of love,
For it is time to wake up from the lust of the eyes.
Soot, smoke and dust;
The red sea dried up for her nakedness to appear!
But watch and see who is playing around her,
For her summer house is ready for her lovers.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler
Yes...
I love the foreplay.
And a touching we both get.
With the kissing done in tenderness,
When stripped to nakedness.
YES...
I LOVE THE FOREPLAY.
And a touching we both get.
With the kissing done in tenderness,
When stripped to nakedness.
YES...
I LOVE THE FOREPLAY.
AND A TOUCHING WE BOTH GET.
With the kissing done in tenderness,
When stripped to nakedness.
YES...
I LOVE THE FOREPLAY.
AND A TOUCHING WE BOTH GET.
WITH THE KISSING DONE IN TENDERNESS,
When stripped to nakedness.
YES...
I LOVE THE FOREPLAY.
AND A TOUCHING WE BOTH GET.
WITH THE KISSING DONE IN TENDERNESS,
WHEN STRIPPED TO NAKEDNESS.
Yes...
I do!
'And I gather you are a screamer too? '
Aux contrare, mon ami.
Tu et moi...
Moan!
Laissez les bon temps rouler.
C'est si bon!
N'est pas? Oui.
'I get the 'we' bit.
But I'm not so sure about the nest,
Pa!
Yours or mine? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An antique ornament
Reflections in an antique ornament
Of lights of green and reds
Of silver tinsel, candy canes
Distorted reflections of children’s heads
Reflections in a kitty cat’s eyes
Of red and green, and mischievous delight
In the feline notion of newfound highs
Of a tree he’ll scale tonight
Reflections of brightly wrapped presents
Piled atop folds of faux-snow cotton
Of pine needles shedding amber essence
Creating memories ne’er to be forgotten
Reflections of a time worn sofa
Reflections of a husband and wife
Reflecting on that antique ornament
And the antique ornament…reflecting life
poem by David Whalen
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