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Best Vanity Poems

Below are the all-time best Vanity poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of vanity poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See also: Best Famous Poems



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Details | Vanity Poem |

WALLPAPER

WALLPAPER

---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong 
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting  my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------

Layers and layers of lifeless brick, 
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT! 
Emotional poster boards of doubt 
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced

Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality 
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel  
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch

Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, slave my skin  
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms  

Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick 
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!

Plastered wounds of cement dries and roughens along the edge
A human made barrier not even God comes in.

by;PD


Details | Vanity Poem |

Sheol

Dark Knight-tress 

Underneath 
This gown I feel nothing
Silk less feelings
The odor of intimate apparel lessens 
Vanity fare from any sun
Warrior of beauty
Where have you gone?
A fortress of gloom
Not even death wants in
Black nail tips
Brownish plum lips

I close my eyes 
I see them all
The Shadows
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens 
The stars dim my view
Irremovable makeup
Land becomes an enemy
I become
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim

~S~


Details | Vanity Poem |

SWIMMING UPSTREAM

SWIMMING UPSTREAM

It seems I always 
swim upstream 
against the current.
re-creating struggles 
of conflicting contradictions
and unsweetened scripts
at odds with others
in deeds and words
a emotional dissonance 
played out over a lifetime. 
banged and buffered hard
against the onflow;
prevailing opposites rush
to assail my efforts
intent on wearing me down
scraping, scarring, challenging
calling me out with
harsh ridicule and doubt
  
why must I cause stirred sediments 
to muddy, blind and bewilder me
blurring reason so that
what is seen as truth 
often becomes mixed
with drama and ambivalence? 
 
how righteous is the direction
of this timeless stream?
shall I swim with it or against it?
go one way or the other;
does it really matter?

I cannot give up
I cannot relent...
this is who I am
a person searching
for kindred spirits
to swim backward 
with me
against the current.
to find some direction,
some marker that guides
this hurrier to a another plane
of purposeful existence.

SYNOPSIS 

I think most people at some time are contrarian.
Some from the start; others in their teens.
Some all through their life.
I can't remember being otherwise.
In retrospect, am I really that different
or do I use it an excuse
to be noticed?  Perhaps both. 


CAK 10-13-12013


Details | Vanity Poem |

FORGOTTEN TREASURE

FORGOTTEN TREASURE

I found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right smack in the middle
Was what I thought to be a wishing well
I tossed in a quarter
Looking down, puzzled as can be
I peeked in to see where it fell
I leaned over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was always there waiting for me
The reflection in the water was me before this day and age
I asked what could this be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me

             SKAT


Details | Vanity Poem |

Beauty Within

    I can see
a beautiful soul
 lies within me.
    Therefore,
    no mirror
   can reflect
who I really am.







 
For Giorgio Veneto's contest - "Laconic Verse"


Details | Vanity Poem |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Details | Vanity Poem |

WHY I LOVE YOU

WHY I LOVE YOU

I got a reason to be with you
I got the feeling I want you
And I got the feeling I should be with you
Because wanting you satisfies me
And loving you shows me who you are
Because the reason I need you is
No one loves me the way you do
If woke late at night frightened
I would put my head beneath your chest
I would press my body close to your heart
To feel the warmth of your embrace
It is because you remind me deeply of 
The vows that were once said by a priest;
That if two people loved eachother
Then only death do them part.
Your love reminds me of the promise;
When two lovers meet and trust
It is like the galaxy in the sky
That shimmers the night into full bloom.
The beauty of your love grown so soft
Slides smoothly like a kiss
On my breast firmly imprinted
By your loving caress that touches the soul.


Details | Vanity Poem |

PAINTED IN WHITE

PAINTED IN WHITE
-----------------------------
Plethoras of colors produce pallets
Upon the whited sheet of her canvas
Painting her smoothly in sensational elegance
Making known her venue lavished in vibrance

Solid streaks of red, solemn streaks of black
With swimming streams of blue compiled in one stack
Glowing shades of green, savory swarms of yellow
With morning mists of gray to show she's mild/mellow

Such compelling charades of the most aureate colors
Cascading her piece inside their fleece
So warm/cozy she sits up there
Tantalized with thoughts of sitting bare

Beneath the bliss of her maverick's mirage
A virgin vintage veils herself with facades
Of jolly jubilance coated with colors
Conveying one message, concealing another

Her psalm, she sings so boisterous and loud
As her silence secretes a deafened crowd
Her severed heart bleeds red scarlet streams
Profusely pleaing for one to come redeem
Her and quiet the screams sent from her lips
Then taste/sip the drips of blood
Slipping and sliding like a fountain's flood

"Oh, What a dream of a fantasy 
Who stilled the swarming storm
Of cascading colors corrupting my form
At least a hint white has placed the night to flight
OH!!! What beauty it was to have that moment of sight. 
WOW!!! What a grand delight to see the sun so bright
For a moment, I thought I'd born heaven's light
WELL!!! Seeing freedom's flag was fun while it lasted. 
I only wonder when the hearer of my heart will mast it."


Details | Vanity Poem |

The Game

My life has been one enormous charade,
A make believe game,
A play I have played, 
A story I tell myself, day and night,
Hidden from myself, out of sight,
A game of hide and seek,
While searching for something else to eat.

The game,
A cosmic game,
A comic game,
A bad joke,
A puff of smoke,
A laugh,
A bath,
A lonely path,
The Game.

I used to take it so seriously,
Think it, feel it so real, so perfectly,

So certain I that was right,
That I lived in the light,
So convinced that I knew the rules,
So obvious I had all the tools,
That I saw the truth, 
That I saw the light,
Would win the battle, win the fight.


Heard the sound of the distant drum,
Calling me to battle with the devious one.
The walls of my ego were high and mighty,
My dreams and delusions danced in front of me,
Their smooth dark surface impossible to climb,
Images I swallowed and thought were mine.


I made them alive, moving and real,
Twist and turn like a slimy eel,
Just to tell myself that I was still someone,
Playing in the game and having lots of fun,
Just to tell me and to tell you,
That I wasn't a loser,
So I wouldn’t hear the words game over.


Game over,
Check and mate,
Here's the gate,
You have to take,
Out of the Game,
The game of shame.


The game of avoiding being blue,
Of dogging the bullets they shot at you,
The atomic bomb they drop on your head,
The monsters that they put under your bed.


The game of hiding away,
Live to play another day,
Even if it's only make believe,
The prizes in plastic,
And not worth a dime,
At least I have the impression that they are mine,
At least I don't fell the pain,
The pain of shame,
In this perverted game.


So that I don't feel I'm a prisoner,
Tied to this post,
Don't even realise that I'm only a ghost,
That the truth is well hidden,
On the board of the game.

That the prizes are in plastic,
But they are shiny and new,
The paint hardly chipped,
The emptiness hardly shows through,
The laughing is loud,
The smiles are all warm and friendly,
And we are all together,
Joyful and happy.


The illusion is REAL,
And only the mad man knows,
That it's a rotten deal.

more of my poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Vanity Poem |

acceptance

   Who's that staring through my window walls, with eyes as old as time
the clock has not yet moved and the wind outside has died
no breath for me to find nor the strength to check the time
unless the minute hand is lying theirs a chance i may have died
I wish this all a dream but the eyes i see dont lie, they have told me with their watching that all men do really cry
yet in vain is all my wishing but perhaps this is delusion of a sedimentary man with his mind ripe for losing 
Come at me then red devil, I shout within my mind yet the tension I had hoped for was delayed and rather dry
no ravishingly velvet flame encircled this such room, nor were the furniture and ottoman  thrown like an old shoe
marvelous the time in which a demon throwns your home and his only one intent is to stare right through your soul
 to that i bid goodnight to you, to do as you wish, regardless of the manner I am nothing more then fish. to be shot out of a barrel for a fellow such as this
If you do deem it fit that I wake another morning all i ask is that the clocks all please return to working order


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