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Social Beautiful Poems | Social Poems About Beautiful

These Social Beautiful poems are examples of Social poems about Beautiful. These are the best examples of Social Beautiful poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

Don't Hate Her

Don't hate her because she's beautiful 
Or envy that she's hot
She is all about appearances
It consumes her every thought

Try to look a little closer
Past the makeup and the hair
Beauty has little value
If a person doesn't care

Looks are her priorities
She doesn't work on what's inside
People tell her she's beautiful 
She gorges on her pride

She's an emotional anorexic
Soul food she refuses to eat
Her behavior reinforced
When people fall at her feet

She craves the admiration
The attention she receives 
Pretty is her curse
In the end it's her disease

She becomes a caricature 
Her illusion to maintain 
Fighting the mirror and time
Over and over again

I appreciate a beautiful woman but the Beauty has to emanate from a much deeper place for me to truly appreciate it. The most beutiful women I have met have become more beautiful with each word they have spoken. We need to stop emphasizing the physical when we raise our children, we will then raise up a generation of truly beautiful people.


Details | Free verse | |

Since First I Saw You

Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.

Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen 
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.

Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating, 
each word you speak intensifies 
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
savoring, memorizing.

Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way. 
The sun magnifying each strand, 
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color, 
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.

Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
only you.


Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Verse | |

My Words

Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words


Details | Rhyme | |

Would You Have Sex With Me

"Would you have sex with me?" I asked the woman adorned in her dress of fine lace.
She approached and proceeded to smack me right across my face.
I saw another beautiful woman and asked her the very same thing,
which resulted in my getting smacked across my face again.
Over and over I asked many beautiful women the very same question,
and over and over the result for me was always the same.
I was then approached by a gentleman who then did ask,
"What are you, some sort of sick and deranged masochist?"
"No," I replied, "I'm an optimist.
It only takes one to answer Yes."


Details | Personification | |

Puzzle Piece

A puzzle piece you are to me 
Like a vine without any leaves. 
Your heart is pure your soul is 
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll 
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes 
it seemed, knowing they said 
no babies for me! Always a 
surprise you seem to be just 
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months 
you walked but not until 4 did 
you first talk! Always a terror 
making a beautiful mess always 
a surprise that has yet to be 
met! The twists and turns I 
know we will see will seem 
somewhat like a roller coaster 
to me! The milestones and 
special gifts you bring will make 
my life seem Like a dream, my 
special boy I have always said 
How special I knew not till 
Aspergers they said! The 
journey will be trying the 
journey will seem long! But 
with our family together we will 
chug along! My special boy I 
love you so and cannot wait to 
see you mature and grow! Now 
we have a goal we have our 
dream you see to make you the 
perfect fitting puzzle piece!! 


Written by: Christina Kirks 
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For 
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr 
Mommy loves you to eternity 
and beyond! Forever and 
always!



Details | Free verse | |

Love, Death, and Rebirth

The signs started in December
When she started waking up in tears each night
She was a normal girl with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes
She had plenty of friends and a loving family with just one thing missing
Her father. 

Days passed by and turned into weeks but only felt like a few seconds
Her life just whizzed by faster and faster until it was just a whirr in front of her eyes
Darkness filtered into her heart and mind until she didn't know if she could go on
But she had to. She couldn't let her mother and her sister drown in this same pain
She wouldn't let them.

She pushed all the darkness into the depths of her own heart
In hopes to save the hearts of the two people she had left
Because what else was there to live for now?
The rest of her world had crashed and her mother and sister was all that was left 
She wouldn't let them drown in pain too. 

She watched as they started to heal in her loving arms
Their hearts started to lighten up once more
But hers was just as dark as it was before 
And growing darker day by day 
But she wouldn't let that stop her. 

Suddenly a year had passed... and then two 
It only seemed like seconds to her but everyone else started moving on
Her mother and sister no longer needed her nurturing care
But she needed someone to hold on to
Anyone...

With nothing left for her to take control of, the dark pushed past her boundries 
It found a way into her soul
Until all she could see was dark and no light 
But her mother and sister were healed now
They didn't understand

The tears came back and engulfed her soul
Bit by bit until she wasn't sure why she was still alive
The grief took over like knives 
Piercing her skin over and over and over
It hurt so much.

She started to wonder what it'd look like to be dead
She could see him again if she was
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to endure this pain?
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to live knowing she'd never see him again?
It would.

So she started to hate herself
All that negative energy was starting to take toll
Everyone around her was breathing while she suffocated more and more by the second
She wished she'd just choke already instead of living in constant pain
If no one would put her out of her misery, she'd have to do it herself

She couldn't see any light anymore
So she grabbed the pill bottle off the shelf and just hoped it wouldn't take long to die
Deep down she still had a spark of light, but she just couldn't find it 
And now it was too late in her mind to change, to turn back and try to look deeper
She was done living.

That's when people started to notice that everything wasn't as peaceful as it seemed
They started to see how deeply depressed she had become
They wanted to help her see the light again before it was too late 
So they sent her away to see doctors and to take pills to make everything better
It was a start.

She didn't see a change at first but suddenly she could think clearly
Maybe what they were doing was actually going to help her see the light again
Yes, she still wanted to die, but maybe that wasn't the only option anymore
They cared,  and behind all their own problems they were trying to understand
They really were trying

Six months longer she would be treated and cared for
Until suddenly she was sent home from her treatment and care with a smile on her face
She had a new perspective
Someone had helped her ignite that spark in her heart until it was a glowing ember
She had been reborn

Sometimes you have to be able to experience the worst of it
To come back shining brighter than before
And if she had died that cold day in October, she wouldn't of ever seen the best of it
Or known that it would get better
and it did!

And she now sits at her laptop, with a smile on her face and warmth in her heart
It's never been an easy road and it won't ever be
But at least she knows she's lived through the worst
And it can only get better from here

So whenever she feels lonely or gets back into that dark spot again
She can look back on what she's learned and can read this poem
And remember that she survived the darkest depths of depression
And she will continue to survive it as long as she lives
Because she is stronger now than she ever was before ?


Details | Light Poetry | |

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.


Details | Rhyme | |

God Has Made Everything Beautiful In His Time

“There is a time for each season…
To everything made…  
There is a divine reason.

A time for purpose under
 the heavens above…
A time for meaning from a God of love.

A time to be born.  A time to die…
A time to farm the ground
 under the beautiful sky.

A time to kill.  A time to heal...
A time to tear down and
 to build up with a passion and zeal 
 
A time for weeping.   A time for laughing…
A time to mourn.  A time for dancing.

A time to keep...
A time to throw away.
A time to tear.  A time to make amends today.

A time to get.  A time for losing…
A time to keep.  And to give
 away at our choosing.

A time for silence.  A time to speak…
A time for each hour
 and day of the week.

A time for love.  A time for hate…
A time for war.  A time for peace at your gate.

How will you spend the time
 God has given to you?
What is your choice?  What will you do???

May this be a time living in 
God’s purpose and design.
He created you and made 
everything beautiful in his time!

By Jim Pemberton  05/22/10
Read Eccl. 3:1-11



Details | Acrostic | |

Jesus

Judas betrayed Jesus’s whereabouts
End, was near
Son of God, knew this
Universe of the Son of the Divine Father, restored
Sins of man forgiven, Prince of our Universal domain, alive in the hearts of his children


Details | Acrostic | |

Easter

Earths people, it is time to wake up, the ‘Prince’ is alive! 
Ascension available, access through your heart 
Seek and you shall find! 
Time is short, personally unite, connect as one
Eternity given
Rise to the occasion, celebrate the gift of life, bond, with ‘our lord Jesus’ and ‘our Universal Father in heaven, building a bridge, experiencing kinship, between human and spirit

                     ***Happy Easter Everyone***


Details | Rhyme | |

Living Under The Weight Of A Label

The blind leading the blind, what is seen is how its heard
the thoughts that make the story are lost behind the words
do you see it as you view it, or take a deeper look 
do you read into the narrative or judge the cover of the book

Is the figure cold and dirty, the shell of what he's made 
or the unforgiven soul, that is waiting to be saved
does that body clad so poorly hold more than what is shown 
or just another mannequin, that has reaped just what was sown

Did you spare a dollar this morning or was your vision blind
or was that lonesome beggar just in the shadows of your mind 
you see that youth with his hooded clothes and jeans hung round his waist 
could he be a high school scholar or does his style not suit your taste 

That girl there, with the pushchair, yes she has a name 
does she love the child she carried, or did she play a foolish game 
And that solemn face behind the bars,the prisoner to his crime
Or the broken life held captive and the victim of a lie

That woman in the wheelchair, animated by expression
does she really have no hopes and dreams or are you too deaf to listen
that classy car, the modest tie, the briefcase at his side
is there a dark deceitful truth, buried deep beneath his pride

no life ahead with a dead end job, shoveling gruel from a grease filled tray
or the maturing child of a broken home, paying bills 'mum' couldn't pay
two babies need to find new homes, is it proof she couldn't cope
or could she not make the perfect life so instead she gave them hope

So they live on a rough estate, they're deviant thieving 'yobs'
and see their buttoned shirts and ties, they're private school 'snobs'
do you just see flecks of peeling paint, view this canvas as a whole 
or define each stroke of the artists brush that reach right to the soul

If opportunity played a fairer game and made judgement realise
then possibility could do its part, allow wisdom to remove disguise
yet with judgement passed and truth unseen, realisation is unable
to protect our children and ourselves 'living under the weight of a label'


Details | Haiku | |

Words

Words said, sung, written
Bred man's civilization. 
Words made us human.


Details | Chant Royal | |

Finding Peace

The MAN
 -THE SPIRIT- 
       - THE SEED

All dwell in the same abode
In the  temple  
where they are ripened 
to be born -
Conditioned in holding tanks.
  
THE swishing of  moving  waters
gentle memories
conditioned in silence.
in holding tanks that were replicas
of wombs.

gentle memories from the world 
where angles fluttered.
Imaginations are contagious
we all had the same dream

The MAN
   - The spirit-
       - The seed
delivered unto the 
vastness of judgement
hated femininity-
no earthly peace. 

When man has the gift 
in spite of you, 
You insult his dignity. 
No peace on this plain- 
Your haughtiness, 
your naughtiness
naughtiness is too  
of a word nice - 
maybe babies are- the word
Strange, is better.
 The MAN
   - The spirit-
       - The seed
There is something about the lips - 
 Lips,shaped like
 (pictures I have seen) 
of cherubs mouths. 
But still we have not perished. 
All imaginations 
could not bear witness
to the same whatever.
someone is sick
caught some disease
came from poverty and 
blossomed like a lily in a
cesspool pond.


Hearts seeking 
solace inside 
The sweethearts
the clean-hearts
deep immersion
where  no pain dwells
where the well disciplined
well guided-thoughts
are ushers in my temple.
The inner silence where -
No thoughts run ramped
My peace of mind- 
my saving grace- 
from the world i have to face.
The  flute talks the 
flute is my guide
I am still. Just still.
 
CLEAN-HEARTS
INSIDE- 
WHERE 
THE INNER 
SILENCE RESIDES ...
and no 
 creature be despised 
neither

The MAN
   - The spirit-nor
       - his seed



















Details | Rhyme | |

A Wonderful Wife


The Lord brought to me a blessing in my life! He's blessed me with such a wonderful wife! Help me Lord to not be deceived by other things I see… May I continue to love the wife you gave to me! Help me to give her my undivided attention! And to give all of my love and affection! In my her, may I daily seek her inner beauty! And treat her like the finest diamond and ruby!


Details | Rhyme | |

Come and Go Chicago

Come and Go Chicago – Zamreen Zarook
 
Where are you going my lady?
Where are you from my sweetie?
What ever you ask my buddy,
You won’t get the paddy.
 
She became a liar,
Because of your chore,
Two questions that you murmur,
Master, don’t forget that you were the rear.
 
You became a sinner,
Without knowing what is inner,
Now you know the manner,
So, never to forget the dinner.

Cease to care for those questions,
Nothing you gain from the considerations,
Everyone has their own equations,
So,they do have their explanations.

 


Details | Free verse | |

You Are Rich

Festered lament maddens me
Why must the despair of my heart’s desire
Truly enlighten me? 
I rested among the sick and lame
And found myself no different from the rest
For a troubled mind holds endless poverty
Penniless regret marks as a sickness no doctor can prescribe
For the bottles of balm are empty
And medicinal hope grows angry
I derived my madness from creativity
Revealing the remains of my humanity
‘Cool off, child’, I heard a soft voice whisper
But can’t you see I live off the flame?
It asks for no nickel or dime!
But it seeks to destroy all the same
The small voice returns at times
And often my heart listens
But we all listen
And only believe in the inevitability of pain 
I speak of the majority
Not of you
For you are blessed and beyond disgrace
You have a life—a beautiful face

And most of all, you are rich
With attributes I can only dream of 

You are rich with life and purpose
Holding inscrutabilities I can only wish to understand
You lift me without touch or care
Disposing me from your treasures
Because though you meant no harm, 
You are rich with blessing
And must remove all possible threats
So my festered lament
Remains an enlightenment

I can say I am rich in poverty
But you are forever rich
In Mystery

What hurts the most is knowing
I may be wrong about you
For you are so obscure in this mind
And as empty as I am I wish to be filled
In your richness
But we all are filled to the brim in the end
And sometimes I cannot distinguish the good from the bad
There is nothing I wish to discard
So I hoard in constant deficiency and despair  
And I hoard the idea that you are beyond compare

That you are rich
And always will be richer
Than me—or he


Details | I do not know? | |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...


it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Is It A Dream World

A funny little clown, a bright red nose.
Lots of make-up, and bright blue bows.

Children laughing, some fat and some thin.
Either dressed in new clothes or rags that are faded and dim.

Pretty white ponies with beautiful glittery saddles.
And again, those funny clowns are hitting eachother with paddles.

One clown keeps fallimg and pretending to cry.
The other is daydreaming and lets out a big sigh.

There are beautiful ladies whose costumes are rare.
And a man who scares the children by dressing up as a bear.

Fantasizing is a convienient thing, it keeps the shock low.
So the surprise about the real world won't be such a big blow.

"Surprised about what"? is what you ask next.
Its something you can't learn in a text.

You'll learn about life by the things you go through.
You'll learn about whats fake and about what is true.

You'll see that the clowns are still funny and have a red nose.
But then you'll see realize only money buys the ladies rare clothes.

That's also when you realize your clothes are faded and dim.
And you recognize how many times you've been beaten by him.

Yes, those clowns with paddles are at it again.
Funny. They are married and they're children number ten.

Thier children are scared and crying in bed.
Because thier big mean daddy made thier sweet mommy dead.


Details | ABC | |

Someone Elses Life

I feel like I'm living someone elses life, a life in strife. I've been strong, but when will I belong. I feel so alone, but I'm doing ok on my own. I can't describe the pain, but I keep in mind every storm runs outa rain. I use to think our love was unbeatable, but really its unforgettable. Everyday I walk down memory lane, trying to ignore the pain. He crosses my mind everyday, when will all this go away. There's gotta be something more, my heart is becoming sore. My momma doesn't have to worry, because I'm not sorry. I know he made the mistake, and he's the reason I have this heartache. What we had, was bad. I shouldn't have let it go that far, your just another scar.


Details | Free verse | |

An Unfinished Story

Step by step,
hand in hand,
I was always there for you.
Ups and downs,
lost and found,
I was always there for you.

Even though you never believed in us before,
and you chose the most hurtful way to slam the door,
I was always there for you.

You moved on quickly, never looked behind,
even though I smile today, it still hurts when I rewind.
Through happiness and pain,
every loss and every gain,
I have always been there for you.

The question still exists, the question about us,
my beautiful dreams went up in dust.

Now that you are here in front of me,
it brings back a rush of old memories.
You say hello, you said goodbye before,
I still believe that we could have had so much more.

Step by step,
hand in hand,
I will always be there for you.
through lows and highs,
till the day I die,
I will always be there for you.


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.

Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,

I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.

I stand, alone.


Details | Free verse | |

Feel The Love

Diving deep, into the void, within
Washing, cleansing, myself clean
Trusting without expectation
Letting go of, what I am familiar with
Allowing the divine, infinite spirit to guide me
Teaching me how to live
Growing inside my heart and mind
Larger than my mind’s ego
As I consciously shed light, upon my self created burdens
Lighting up, my made up fears, my mind has believed, all these years
All the mistakes I have made, now become my greatest blessings
Showing me how to love, without attachment
Discovering, who I truly am


Details | Verse | |

Dislocated Impostors

They are not being marginalized again;
impostors disguising with bleached faces,
noses made up to fit up to other races,
hair fried and stretched in beautiful shame,
and tongues twisted and roasted in cultural chains - 
Distinguished eye-sores of social disdain,
and heads bowed awkwardly in intellectual refrain.

Yes, we are the they;
the dislocated impostors,
the dying survivors,
the iron rusting at bay:

We are not being marginalized again,
else it would have now been the right time
to compose a cry
again, or a lamentation to be sung by a frightened race.

No, it’s not as you may think. No!
It’s not a harsh tone,
you should know.
For to change is like to crack a bone,
something like doing a deep probe.

And with apologies I could say again,
we are the dislocated impostors,
and it won’t be an insult or rail,
since I’m part of the they,
and I can’t insult myself, no gain.
And now is not the time of composing a cry or izobo
but the time of composing a koboko
to probe deep into our bones
and force the phobia of our culture-sense to die
to avail us of the dwarf-walking self and pride.

We need such, if you like, call it necessary insults
to repent and make necessary u-turns
and produce tides-turning results,
to escape the irreparable black-burns
of a trans-generational insult:
If you don’t produce results, you can’t refuse insults.

Yes, we are the dislocated impostors
disguising around with bleached faces,
hair fried and stretched in beautiful shame,
tongues twisted and roasted in cultural chains,
heads bowed awkwardly in intellectual refrain – 
elites with bastard successors.
 
Bastardy provoking as it comes, let’s close our eyes
to swallow this only medicine-hope of the painful taste
of what we’ve made of ourselves – 
Dislocated impostors;
a foul-odor name far from chaste,
well-earned reputation far from wise,
a history not worthy of bookshelves – 
Rock-bottom cultural impostors.

and now we’ve abandoned ourselves
at the middle of nowhere,
freaks of foreign stuffs,
dislocated yet puffed up,
but baseless,
gasping for air,
like a fish cast out of water.

And every day we go to worship
at church or
at mosque,
or at juju shrine,
but to seek answers that won’t stress us,
that would massage us,
pet us,
and lacerate us.

Not the answers that God would give,
that would exercise us.
But that which will make us feel comfortable
at the status-quot.

And as we strut back home
and see our family roofs leaking,
our family walls riddled,
our family fences cracked,
our family barns plundered
because we abandoned our cultural habitat,
and gasp helplessly in foreign habitat,
lost at the middle of nowhere,
then our neighbors point at the collapse,
but we shake our heads,
not because we know not what to do
but that we do not what we know
and know not what we are.

Hence we live in the baseless world called momentary,
enjoying away in the microcosm called survival,
far-removed from the promise called success,
like social bastards,
economic outcasts,
cultural miss-match,
intellectual down-casts
and political impostors.

And we were told
“look, your house is crumbling!”
We said,
“but we can still manage to eat, drink and feast.”
And lied,
“besides, God says it’s well with us.”


izobo : a Nigerian word for sacrifices at roadsides, river sides e.t.c to appease   the gods or to cast a spell.

koboko : a Nigerian word for a long whip made of leather/ the tail of an animal.

juju : a nigerian word for an idol.


Details | Rhyme | |

Never Be Afraid to Speak up

Big brown eyes and long brown hair
Shes so beautiful it isn't fair.
With every step she seems to glow
she's so pretty but she doesn't know...

High school jock with long strong legs
hes wasting his years drinking down kegs.
The beautiful girl stands near by
but she can't approach him she's far to shy...

Watching this girl for many years
scrawny boy with large round ears.
Big huge glasses that cover his eyes
want's to talk to the girl but hes far to wise...

Scrawny boy with the large round ears decides
hes going to overcome one of his fears
he walks up to the girl and asks her her name
just as the jock scores a goal that wins the game...

He tries again but she sends him away
she says she doesn't want to see him any day.
He walks away with his heart broken
shut down just after the moment he had spoken....

Beautiful boy with the golden skin
every girl want's to be with him.
After watching the jock break the beautiful girl's heart
all he could do was watch her fall apart....

Beautiful girl looks his way 
This was what he'd wished for every day
but now many years later, looking back
he remembers himself the scrawny boy
and how she made his heart crack....

This is a message to give everyone a chance
don't judge people with a once over glance.
Treat everyone right because its the best thing to do
You'll live your life happy the whole way through.


Details | Free verse | |

I Am A Spark Of Life

A spark of life
Fire in my belly
Giving what I have
Serving you
Honouring, who I truly am
Loving you, in return


Details | I do not know? | |

She



A sweetly-scented, earthy rain-storm,
she came to me,

thunderously raging with raw emotion,
she came to me,

drenched in the essence of truth,
she came to me,

she touched a chord deep inside,
she strummed away all emptiness,

she came to me,

once...

she comes to me,

still...


a gentle presence filling my life,


she comes to me,


still,

a healing spirit soothing all inner strife.





Details | I do not know? | |

A Hollow Shell

a hollow shell
of tangled synapses
sparked into gradual madness
which drowns out the truths of the day
as the mind reeks of the rotten sad moments
that swirl in the rancid soup of forgotten dreams
dreams that once traced a gentle path of innocence
dreams that reached for pure love’s tender touch
dreams now paralysed but once vivaciously alive
what became of those fresh dreams and hopes
as they lie mustily on dusty bookshelves
torn into shreds by time’s fine scimitar
devoid of the touch of raw passion
when all that remains of love is
a hollow shell


Details | Elegy | |

Sketch

 To make a new experience,
once I thought to walk down my home,
from Esplanade to Tollygaunge….. 
 
I crossed the Chowrungee
& walked down the foot of the Grand,
I saw an oldman to his daily daydreams',
eyes to the heaven - and hands to the earth,
leaning there to the marble pillar beside the Bata-showroom.
I crossed him and hundreds passed by,
thousands looked at him
and rest, running to the new market's new brand.
 
Little further I went…
infront of the Indian Museum,
there I saw a woman, with her child in the warmth of her arms,
sitting there crying for her life and praying for her child,
but, none looked down to the present,
rather, eager to know the legends,
and hundreds came out by the history;
rest were still in the museum,
in the future through the time machine.
 
I went on, walking down by the foot,
crossed the road and  further a two minutes of walk,
as I headed to the Victoria Memorial Hall-
the beautiful marble palace and its calm surrounding,
there the couples making their day, and ,
one making a sketch of that beautiful marble architecture,
but, none could make a sketch of that little baby's heart…
who's clothings were only his naked body,
crying for little shelter and thirst for mother's breast milk. 
He was born to make a new life,
and he's lying there for someone could sketch his lost life.
 
I realized then ,
what I thought of an experience to walk down to my home,
from Esplanade to Tollygaunge,
is an experience to make a sketch….
of the real life,
 in Kolkata.


Details | Free verse | |

Essay: Prelude to Women Walking part 1 of 2

I love Southwest Florida and I feel privileged to live here in Paradise.  One of the 
things I enjoy most about living here is being able to walk year round in beautiful 
parks and nature preserves.  One of my favorite places is Eco Park where it is so 
lovely and peaceful.  Whenever I hear a twig snap, or leaves rustling, I turn in 
delightful anticipation of seeing something wonderful, a mother fox and her 
kittens, a family of raccoons, or perhaps a beautiful bird...but the other day I 
watched the news before my walk, and the program focused on the increasing 
violence against women and children around the world.  It so distressed me that 
the solace and peace I sought on my walk for the first time completely eluded 
me.  At every rustle, my stomach leapt,  at every sound, my body tensed, my heart 
pounded, and  finally I had to turn around and go home.  I had lost my sense of 
peace and security in life and I felt desolate.

Now I don’t know the answer to the problems of the world, but what I do know is 
that what humanity is currently doing isn’t working.  It doesn’t take a great genius 
to see this.  Everywhere we look around the world we can see that what we are 
doing isn’t working, and Denial ain’t a river in Egypt folks.  What I also know is 
that Scientists have mapped the human genome and have found that each and 
every last one of us on this earth can trace our origins back roughly forty 
thousand years or so to a tribe in eastern Africa.  That’s right, every single last 
one of us all came from the same place.  We all have the same base of origin.  
We’re all made of the exact same stuff.  We all may look different but we’re really 
not. We are the family of mankind.  Humanity is all in the same boat, and if some 
of us are sinking, all of us are sinking.

                                                         Continued