Disillusioned
On sighting those long black legs
I rearranged my skirt
To display my graceful curves
Of pure african blood
Immediately I spiced up a poem
Of uncouth lyrical voice
Starving my falling lids
From slumber
He drank from my pot
Diluting the words
Not a word said
Not a single emotion in show
He smiled at my note
Showing forth masculine beauty
Smiles of sorry songs
He needed beauty not lines
With the hide-the -irony smile
He presented his made up mind
In a simple tiny line
'I need a queen not a Shakespearain nerd'
poem by Venessa Ambrose
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Related quotes
In search of beauty
Why is it so?
That beauty is an unfathomable mistress?
…like the uncertain truth…
Of a certain paradox…
The beauty of joy,
Is in its irony.
The beauty of smile,
In its tear.
The beauty of desire
Is in its incompletion.
The beauty of a poem,
In its vain-ness.
That of emotion,
In its numbness…
That of sorrow,
In its convalescence.
The beauty of past,
is in its eternity,
and that of future,
in its anonymity.
The beauty of beauty
Is in its ugliness…
That of life,
…in its death…
The beauty of
The search of it,
Is in its endlessness….
poem by Sarvesh Kulkarni
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Untapped...
I see beauty in the night
Graceful is the sight
As the moon floats
Amidst oceans of stars
In see beauty in nature
In the sun masculine embrace
So much beauty in the clouds
Even seas confess in rousing waves
I see beauty in the day
In the reflection of your face
So much beauty in may
As it ushers the new rain
There is beauty in your eyes
The curl of your hair...
So much beauty in your heart
And the joy that comes with your smile.
(TJ 19/01/10)
poem by Jubril Balogun
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Beauty?
Is beauty the sea on a wild October morning,
Crashing against the rocks?
Is beauty the girl staring from the page,
Made up, a cover girl?
Is beauty the graceful tiger,
As he goes in for the kill?
Is beauty the intricate brush strokes,
Only a true artist can create?
No.
Beauty is
Pure,
Simple,
Love.
poem by I.C. Richardson
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The Best Smile
It was a portrait
Of six feet height
Full size Lady Grace,
Minus lips on her face.
With all his skill
The artist failed still,
To give her a smile,
Free from any style.
He scanned every mile,
For that unseen smile,
One lovely to admire,
Forever, the world over.
Smiles, smiles every where,
But not a smile there,
New, true and plain,
His lady should own.
His wife smiled.
His girl smiled.
His servant smiled.
His boss smiled.
The milkmaid smiled.
The cartman smiled.
The beggar smiled.
The neighbour smiled.
The dandy smiled.
The waiter smiled.
The grocer smiled.
The councilor smiled.
He saw an ambitious smile,
Not an aesthetic smile,
And a cunning smile,
Not a winning smile.
He saw a dubious smile,
Not a divine smile,
And a greedy smile,
Not a graceful smile.
He saw a mischievous smile,
Not a magnanimous smile,
And a voluptuous smile,
Not a virtuous smile.
Smiles, with strings, he found,
Wherever he went round,
But not the best one,
The Lady Grace won.
The smile, the best,
He found at last,
From his own child,
Rocking in the cradle.
Now the Lady Grace smiled.
Thanks to the child.
The portrait was acclaimed,
The best of its kind.
(Longest word in English is 'Smiles'
Because there is a mile between 'S' and 'S')
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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Monkey Blood
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you..,
Still everyday you question it.
A gift god has given.
Someday hopefully I'm forgiven.
A blessing totally taken for granted.
But at the time I had no idea how special I really was.
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you.., I
Love is all the same.
No matter the face or name.
Their is no better claim.
In this life not everything is a game.
Still sometimes we lose, even when everything is done right.
Wishing for a little more guidance with a little better insight.
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you.., I
A shadow appears where I once stood.
It grows as the sun rises.
It moves as I move.
It is their till I walk inside.
It is a mirror image of all that is true in this world.
It hides when you hide.
It is brave when you brave.
Standing strong, even when I'm so weak all emotion nearly gone.
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you.., I
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you.., I
We're not so different after all.
Beauty in the eyes of the beholder.
A shallow hal syndrome.
A sickness I will not condone.
Equals in everything good and great.
They are always more then enough reasons to celebrate.
For in this life their is still plenty of breaths to take.
And in this life their are still plenty of mornings to wake..
And in this life ohhh ohhh,
And in this life ohhh ohhh you still have a smile even if it is only sometimes.
Trust me when I say every thing will be just fine.
Even when its not.
An uplifting of ones spirit.
I give you strength.
I give you courage.
I give you everything I have without a single regret.
Even upon the abuse of it I'll still never regret it, no never.
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you.., I
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you.., I
We're no so different after all.
Beauty in the eyes of the beholder.
A shallow hal syndrome.
A sickness I will not condone.
Equals in everything good and great.
They are always more then enough reasons to celebrate.
For in this life their is still plenty of breaths to take.
And in this life their are still plenty of mornings to wake..
And in this life ohhh ohhh,
And in this life ohhh ohhh you still have a smile even if it is only sometimes.
Trust me when I say every thing will be just fine.
Even when its not.
An uplifting of ones spirit.
I give you strength.
I give you courage.
I give you everything I have with I single regret.
Even upon the abuse of it I'll still never regret it, no never.
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you.., I
I cut myself to share my monkey blood.
To show you what we're all made of.
I'm no different than you.
I'm no better than you.
Then you, then you.., I
Finally the last cut has been made.
Their nothing left to show.
And now I must go.
Oh please don't easyly forget what I told you.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I Stop And Wait/For A Poem
I Stop And Wait/ For A Poem
I stop and wait
For a poem.
The poem does not come
The city says ‘Morning beauty’
The silence is a sadness unsayable -
Light is lovely
Isn’t it?
Irony Irony Irony-
I write these lines
As if I actually believe
I am writing poetry
And doing something.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In Search Of Aphrodite
A Sideline Sonnet
(letters on the left side of the poem make the 15th line, which is also written out in parenthesis at the end of the poem) This poem, instead of being displayed with either 12 lines on the left margin, with the 13th and 14th lines indented in modern format, or with the first 8 lines on the left margin, a line skipped and then the next 4 lines on the left margin with the couplet indented in the style most commonly used in the days of Shakespeare, will be posted in 4 line stanzas to make it easier to read the side line, which will be three 4 letter words, and one 2 letter word.
May I behold a girl this fair:
A girl whose presence makes a light;
Kindles a flame that burns so bright
Eclipses it the moon. With hair
Lost stars that from the heavens fall –
On falling do submit their glow,
Vile stars, on one I cannot know.
Enraptured though, I make the call.
While all my starving total seeks,
In endless hunger, for the dear
Temptation that, though hov'ring near,
Hears not my voice: yet not she speaks.
May I but see her, then will I
Entreat her, listen to my cry…
(make love with me)
poem by James Walter Orr
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African American Beauty
Brown skin, black hair, brown eyes, and sweet personality.
That is my culture.
My culture is about the beauty of black women
who are not afraid to show their curves
and express their beauty in the most sexiest way.
We come in all shapes and sizes.
Small, curvaceous,
voluptuous, and more to love.
From that neck bone to that chicken bone,
we are African American beauty.
We invented the big booties and big breasts.
Nice think healthy hair, some nicely wrapped.
We are truly a God sent creation.
Extremely talented to bless people across the country.
We have made ways for so many people.
Step by step
Minute by minute
Day by day
We continue to show people that we are a serious culture
Love to play n have fun
But knows when to stop to take life
And grab it by the horns.
Being strong and not intimidated
Holding on to what we know is right
Being of the minority
When it comes to
Sex
Drugs
Murder
Being of the majority
When it come to
SUCCESS!
What more can I say
We are truly what we say we are
African American Beauty.
poem by Carrie Suter
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Wonder Poem
She was a rockhard
Firm chassied, sleek
Chic, two toned
Wonder of a poem
Her smile could
turn you on a dime
Make you feel that
You've been left undone
She had a way
with her words
That made me
smile now in my tears
Her rear end
Never shimmied
Her trunk never
left undone
Her steering wheel
Was a half 'C'
And made up a
perfect curve
Her wheels were firmly
planted and
she never missed
the curves
Her dual exhausts
Made all in chrome
Under pressure
made her growl
Her six speed
Powertrain now
was made to
make you squeal
She could throw
you back into you seat
On takeoff
Oh, now with such a force
She knew of
Only one thing
And that was how
She was going to lead
Her glass was
Crystaline clear
Everything inside
You could see my dear
One word you
Never saw
And that word now
Was to 'hide'
Yes when it came it came
To performance
She came out
Dressed to kill
That's now my
Wonder poem
And it's time I
Give her all the gas
poem by Midnights Voice
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A Red Rose for You
I wish a rose can last forever.
I wish the pedals never fall,
The chance of becoming true? Never.
This rose will have you know it all.
The red rose I have for you
Is as pure as my love for you.
It will let you know that my
Love for you is true.
Hopefully this rose,
Will give you warmth in your heart.
If you feel the warmth,
That's the feeling that we will never be apart.
This red rose I have for you
Will show you the beauty I see.
Everytime I see you,
You are the beauty to me.
This rose will show you
The smile that brightens up my day.
This rose will show you on every pedal,
The words I love you in every way.
This red rose for you
Might show you I'm shy.
But I know for a fact,
That it will show that for you, I'll light up the sky.
This red rose for you,
Will let you know,
That for you,
Any where I'll go.
In this letter it will show you,
That every word is meant.
My words are so faithful,
As the beauty of a red rose you won't forget.
This is my Rose to you.
(December 6,2008)
poem by Joey Rodriguez
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What Make A Poem A Poem?
What makes a poem a poem
Is it the story it tells
The feeling it sells.
what makes a poem a poem
is it the history it shows
or the letters of word flow
do the lines mater it they rhyme
or not, can it be free verse of
abcabc line schem,
What makes a poem a poem
is it the words i repeat
Or the emotion they cove.
What makes a poem a poem
Time And Again/ It Is The Songs That Are The Poems
Time and again
It is Songs that are the Poem-
Songs which surprise
In suggestions and remembrances
Deepest feelings-
Time and again
It is the songs simple words
That lift the soul
To that kind of Joy only Beauty gives.
The songs the music-
With the words or without
They are so often the Poem
The Soul lives in
And would be less without.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Beauty
Countless are beauties
To suit every taste
One Venus, one goddess
And many an angel
Seen, vied and gloated at
But! Lo! What is beauty?
For one fair skin is lovely
to another, black is bounty
But blonde is gorgeous for many
Lively smile, lotus eyes, long legs
Or total comely structure!
Ah! What is beauty? Where is beauty?
Theories were floated! Thoughts purveyed!
Frustrated hearts even wailed
That beauty is nothing but skin deep
Descriptions fail! Debates prove futile
Nor any norms dare narrate!
Every epicurean tumbles in vain
Where lies the real beauty
In embellished body or
In an unblemished mind
Why in Theresa’s gentle amble
Dazzles a beautiful guardian angel?
How the bare-mouthed Mahatma
By one pure smile of his
Geared millions
To bare their lives
For their mother land
Discern and discover my friends
Beauty mundane! Beauty divine?
Beauty haughty! Beauty holy?
Learn seeing through earthly bodies
Deep into the intrinsic
Where you find beauty authentic
All that stares at you
Is just cosmetic!
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Heart Of Poetry
The mystery of words wisdom of the heart to each
angelic form, the voice of emotion in verse.
The melody of heart speak in words that feels the
emotion to express the deepness of feeling in the mind.
Thoughts of words flow to the emotion to make meaning,
to the essence that moves, sensitivity inside emotion
through the words.
Intellect of mind with the knowledge of experience power of
wisdom transcend to composition to unlock the perfect will of
words justify hidden truth.
The magnificent power compose words gives roots
blossom to the garden of heart and bring fruits to the heart of men.
Love kind words are power to win oneself to transform the
beauty of inside emotion to one particular individual.
The poetry, words of wisdom comes from inner motives of
good heart that gives us privilege to express the hidden
beauty of thoughts inside mind to put it in words.
The power to dominate inside individual for beauty and
wonder purpose of life.
Copyright (c) Jocelyn Dunbar
13th of May 2006
7: 50 A.M.
poem by Jocelyn Dunbar
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Without Beauty
WITHOUT BEAUTY
Without Beauty
What is a Poem?
What is a Life?
Without Beauty
What are we?
We need Beauty-
We live by Beauty-
Beauty in words also.
Oh if I could only write a poem
As Great as my feelings of Beauty are.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Beauty, Beauty
Beauty, beauty in the light. Beauty, Beauty falling through. How sweet must beauty, beauty be. Beauty, beauty how it's happy. Beauty, beauty in the sky and in the grass. Beauty, beauty in the trees. Beauty, beauty on the ground. Beauty, beauty crawling on the ground. Beauty, beauty always climbing. Beauty, beauty that we are sirrounded by.
poem by Shania K. Younce
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What I'd Pay To Be The Proverbs 31 Woman, Instead Of The Proverbs 7 Woman (Beauty)
The beauty you have
Is the kind of beauty
Girls like me long so deeply to have
The beauty you have
Is your hunger for God
A girl like me always wanted to have it
The beauty you have
Is the kind that lasts forever-
-Oh, I would do anything to have it!
The beauty you have,
God smiles on you so brightly
And I miss His smile
Never let go
Of that beauty you have!
(It surpasses that of so many.)
[For Samantha; 6/24/09]
poem by Chanlin Boyd Cox
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All The Poems Remain Written Where They Once Never Were
ALL THE POEMS REMAIN WRITTEN WHERE THEY ONCE NEVER WERE
All the poems remain written where they once never were
The grass and the skies of Whitman form lines in the mind of Baudelaire
The trees and dark cities of the distance form single sounds in the heart of the poet who cares
Night is more than darkness and day more than an early setting out
Each thing influences the other and calls back its own origins and end
We are going somewhere we will never know whether we write eternal lines or not
Over everywhere can be heard in the morning light the selfsame sound that through the heart of Ruth burned the alien corn
Keats is not dead, and Borges is not dead and Kafka is not dead and Wordsworth and all those who wrote great lines are not dead
Poetry is the last first eternity of the living word
And those who can hear the sounds of others greater than themselves in their own lines know
We are all writing down this last poem for ourselves and no one else
Though as we go to pray each morning the minyan tells us secretly
All our prayers together are more than any single poem can be alone
In the grey long distance where no one hears any poem at all
God writes and rewrites for us all the book of the stars in which dread is no longer a name
And beauty bright bright beauty is heard and reechoed as more than we will ever be
God is the only Poetry in the End
God is the Only One who never will be dead..
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Lost The Poem I Wrote In My Mind
I LOST THE POEM I WROTE IN MIND
I lost the poem I wrote in my mind
When walking to Shul this morning-
I can only try to recall its thoughts;
‘Walk too fast and the mind cannot hear itself
Walk slowly and listen to the poem inside yourself.
The road ahead the trees the sky
Has a beauty too great for you to write
Thank God for your sight.”
The best lines are forever gone-
A poem to replace a poem
Is not as good as the original-
I wish I had the words for all the beauty God gives me in my life
How wonderful it is to be alive- sometimes
And to be able to write poems – even if somewhat poorly.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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