Best Blemishes Poems
A land unto its own as old as dirt
Condemned by voguish northern state of mind
This realm you'd be hard-pressed to disconcert
Though his'try would prefer it be maligned
The secret twisted oak and winding creek
The tapestries of moss that grace the swamp
They whisper in a language few can speak
Revealing true that fair southern beauchamp
There is no match for tender Georgia peach
To Cajun gumbo nothing can compare
And off the Apalachicolan beach
Fresh oysters make the finest southern fare
Sweet Dixie with your blemishes and charms
No place I'd rather be than in your arms
Jan. 4, 2017
The American Deep South - That magical swath spanning from east Texas eastwards and upwards through to the Carolinas
For the contest by Silent One Re: Sonnet About Where I Live
i accept you
for all your imperfections
in my eyes you are perfection
the seen and unseen
if only you had my eyes
placed them in those
big brown pupils
then you would see
what i see
forget what others see
i do not care
about pink pimples,
blemishes, stretch marks,
nor the love handles
you are a unique fragrance
invisible to those
who choose what they see
but i see beyond your image
so you're visible to me
i know
your heart is not red,
it's burgundy -
but so is everybody's
and
we all beat the same
sometimes slowly
but mine beats rapidly
when you glance at me
i accept you for all your scars
for they are a part of me
as mine are to you
together our wounds heal
The Silent One
Simple Musing
2 September 2020
O river of moon roses
ferry me home....
I weep in quivering quiescence
like a weathered wild petal~
healing and hurting
in my p o e t i c recluse..
perhaps there is no word
to depict your thunder-struck garden
as breathless stars
shiver in solitude
tasting the pulse of betrayal
from the veins of grieving gravels…
I ponder ~ must I brush
skin of dusk
with angst of dawn
believe in self-spun delusions,
and drown in dahlia deception?
I have known truth as a masked lie
fed from familiar hands
of superficial solace...
I trusted the darker face of twilight
oblivious to the
sage flickering within...
following the fading silver
of the fickle Luna~
a willing mistress
to ethereal torment…
forgive me
I have no adjectives nor rhyme
left to right the love turned cold
I wove across
hyacinth horizon
that
feels not silent sighs
remember
you'll search for my silhouette
in valleys of vain violets
wicked-white winds
when the sun blemishes the sky
with colors of
ice-blue
r e v e r i e s
O dream-weaver
soul-kisser....
You wake up in the morning to look in the mirror,
To say "This is me".
To Compare yourself to what you think you should be.
"I'm fat.",
"I'm ugly.",
"How can this be?",
"Why did God do this to me?",
You put on some make-up or some acne-cream,
To cover the blemishes that others can see.
But it doesn't mater what others see,
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
And the beholder is me.
So stop annotating,
And start complimenting,
Not on what should be,
But on what is!
You were created in God's image,
Oh.
How.
Powerful.
To see who you really are,
Oh.
How.
Magical.
In that mirror is not,
"I'm fat.",
"I'm ugly.",
But a scientific creation from stardust,
Something that's way beyond us.
And what's inside is something so unique,
So special,
Because no one else has it,
It's.
Like.
Magic.
It's you!
You are the most amazing thing to walk on this Earth.
With the ability to wake up and show your worth.
So why wake up and talk negative?
When you could wake up and smile.
Why not be happy for a while?
Why try to please everyone else,
When all you have to do is be yourself?
People say "What matters is on the inside.",
And you say "But look at my outside.".
And I say there is no good side,
You as a whole is the creation,
There is no separation.
Each person with 46 chromosomes working in perfect symphony,
Destroying themselves with negativity.
Just Stop!
You are beautiful because you are rare,
Because no one else can compare.
Your face,
Your nose,
Your eyes,
With your sense of humor to comprise,
Someone no one else can match.
Try to make it in a lab...
Try throw it down the hatch.
You compare yourself to everyone else,
When you are one of a kind.
Why can't you get that in your mind?
Diamonds aren't perfect so why should you be?
Beauty is not symmetry.
Look in the mirror and what do you see?
The beauty that you are...
This is me...
tears
on her pillow
refuse to dry
only her piano
knows her pain
sitting
in her gown
her fatigued fingers
break her silence
as they weep
until crimson drops
stains her keys
yet
no one
hears her sorrowful
serenade of
shame
a fool for love
lamenting his
lack of loyalty
her eyes flood
dripping onto ivory
rectangles of regret
but
they wash away
crimson blemishes
for her to play
vividly and vigorously
harmony of her hands
play away the pangs
of heartbreak
her heart knows
this symphony
could end in tears
but
she smiles
believing there is
always hope for a
better tomorrow
O ever changing sky, blue-gray and maudlin
your mood and unsettled ways, meld with mine.
Clouds seem but blemishes upon horizons
as weary as the soot smudged cheeks of urchins.
Bruised in hues at once fresh with pain and longing,
not yet healed by the riper rise of next day’s bloom.
O ever changing sky, the nascent forest’s buds.
Its lashes linger in the purple poignancy of dusk
and whip thy brow with thrashing maple limbs.
Eyeless vault of heaven cry for me, release my plight
erase with thy wonders this tattered visage so forlorn.
The sky of night holds many jewels of delight.
O ever changing sky, clear to crisper shades of sapphire,
ping with shooting stars and glowing diadems of light.
Let lavender blue soften my sorrows for I like Merope*
need Orion’s might to lift my heartache, to point the way.
May thy constant rebirth give hope which melds with mine
and brings a beauty brighter than your Venus** to the day.
*Merope was Orion’s star crossed lover.
**Venus is the Goddess of Love and the Morning Star
Why stay in Oz, girl
Wishing for changes?
Turning your mirrors to books
So you can rewrite the pages
You’ve got a beautiful heart and mind, girl
Why look at the flaws?
I can’t even see the tin
Or the rust or the straw
I think your worst side is your best side, girl
Don’t throw all those little things away
I don’t want your 'out of date' style
Or your blemishes to change
So open your eyes, girl
And look in the mirror
You’re perfect to me
Couldn’t get any better
....
broken heart
that I am, has beset
by blemishes though I'm not
ashamed; for my shattered
pieces myself is to blame.
here I breath waiting for the
day of my renewal, then back
to the role I play; painful
past lurking still, but
I'm not afraid to take
chances to love and
be whole once
more and
be ready
to shed
a tear
of joy
!
Beauty in Imperfection - A collaboration with Iris Blade
I got too close to the masterpiece
And realized it was cracked
Blemishes and scars
Memories and sorrow
I stared as the brushstrokes reflected
fault lines in reverse images
slicing and carving,
desires and dreams
And I silently waited
For the broken frame
For the cracked canvas
To whisper their story
To give the answers to my questions
Because I no longer knew
What was beautiful
And what was not.
Yet still I gaze intently,
mesmerized by the vision I find
Could it be that life is hidden within
this portrait that seems so oddly familiar
Where an easel supports
Not only a work of unexplained reason,
But a deeper meaning
In all that I see
Beauty behind brushstrokes
Not perfection but
Affection
Love behind scarred lines in blue
And this one painting
Has shown me what I know
And what I want to
Beauty resides in imperfection.
Stolen from Persian shores,
whilst warm within my cocoon,
all that remains is saltwater memories,
where sorrows flow in slow motion
through drops - invisible, but glowing.
Eyes gaze in awe,
but am I as elegant as I appear?
I am bare, full, but hollow,
forever on display,
but unseen in darkness.
Bricks are identical like pearls,
easily strung together,
but pointless on their own.
Collecting dust upon dry land,
I can hear whispers of timeworn blemishes
from waves calling me home.
Only silence dresses her rigging now
To the call of the bosun’s whistle
Her hatches now stand locked and secure
Where long past sailors once lingered
She is the last of the old frigates
Moored in the shallows of Charlestown
Board her and hear her echoes of valor
Haughtily anchored her colors humbly fly
No blemishes on her hull show her battles
Her carronades still sit silently waiting
As she floats mythically at ease
For a moment I can hear the great moans
Her keel and sailors cresting Atlantic waves
To Captain Hulls orders to come about
And charge on the enemy ship Guerriere
On her decks I feel the plight of her dead
Hearing stories of centuries old bulkheads
Astounding feats of a morose pride
To have brought their foe to capitulate
Now she stands tacit though ever grand
And still on her decks and deep in the bowels
The mighty spirit of U.S.S. Constitution dwells
A monument of endurance softly whispering
“Lest we remember long forgotten sacrifices…”
Blemishes I see upon my body
Destroying my own temple
Could it be that simple
Damned to dream
and not sleep
As so it seem
and soon I will reap
From my own hands the cuts
Showing the pain in my soul
Tarnished it would be
if it was up to me
Unable to separate from what you see
My mind waiting for the day
I could leave as me
All my flaws already known and shown
Could this be green with envy
Head down
with nothing to say
No ones perfect
Imperfection he seeks
the down and out
He would show peace
The evolution of humans is that
we went from simple cell
organisms to plastics.
All this fakeness makes me
want to embrace realness.
Blemishes and weight gain,
silver hair with golden bands
the struggles that come with reality
Dismantling falsities
that blind us from our truth,
You can't because
should be erased from
our vocabulary
becuase the mere definition
of becuase
should render
I can. I just want to feel real
have it ooze through
my fingertips
the same way saltwater
and sand flows through hands
when you try to take
hold of a beach.
I want to be reconnected
with plankton and
oxygenated substances.
Plastics are suffocating
that is way it has a
choking hazard as an
attachment.
Why can't you just enjoy yourself
in the skin your in?
Grow with it,
let it be your tuxedo
you wear in your golden years,
Your wrinkles and surgery marks
tears from broken hearts,
a smile that's slightly crooked
or a tongue that to this day
reminds me
it could've been a different
kind of yesterday.
Embrace the flaws
Hug them all
that's that
perfectly perfected feeling
of realness so many
seldom see.
That's what I see
when bodies have
evolved too far.
Tossed into the stormy ocean
when life struck another blow
brined, devoid of all emotion
lost child from Land of Goshen
drowning in the ebb and flow
dragged to depths by undertow
Blind eyes were opened to the past
of stains, blemishes carried long
feint with sorrow, my fate cast
gasping for air, I breathed my last
Lyrics pealed from Savior's song
absolving me for rebellious wrongs
Gentle hands touched my feet
binding chains of sin were broken
Satan bellowed and roared in defeat
"Taste blood's wine until replete."
Was the Son of God who had spoken
to me on the beach when I had woken
Life rescued by the kind mercy of Him
cleansed when I'd been washed ashore
He whispered to me, "You can swim."
Angelic voices rose in requiem
Echoes from above, then nothing more
Naked, but for the robe of white I wore
April 21st, 2017
You see me
The way no one else does.
Some look at me
Not looking beyond the blemishes
Embedded on my skin.
Some even look past me
As though I'm invisible,
But you look at me
Without judgment.
You see the true beauty
Shining deep within me.
You see some scars, too,
But you don't seem to care.
Your kind eyes search through
The rubble of my soul
To unearth
A rare diamond.
You see me
As I am
*not a personal write*
Date written: 06/15/2022