Best Creep In Poems
The doubt and anger are here again
No surprise, my new friend
Believed I could keep it all away
Now it’s about to steal me away
Come steal me away. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Hearts are craters, deep as wells
Fill them up and hold on well
Sand and mud, the liquid seeps
Dirty tears and sorrows creep
Creep in to swallow me. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Told you, I told you. Remember I did?
This time it was raw, nothing I hid
Unacceptable loathing and regret
Nothing to explain, at least not yet
You will see though. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Consuming distraction, love that I know
It’s dying already with no place to go
You won’t agree and you won’t see
It will never be enough for me
You will hate me so. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts that I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Let me go, for I am already gone
I’m sorry to make you believe this long
Hopeless rage, directed at you
Walls constructed to block the view
But you will still want me. Again, and again.
I can’t change the parts I hate, and I’ll never be happy again. Again
I was a red-violet, sunny morning person, usually up at the crack of dawn,
When orange light poured from the east, upon revival, dewy green lawns.
With a cup of aromal coffee, I'd watch yellow sunrise creep in the window,
Enjoying the zestful song of red robin, while night and day were in limbo.
I would take walks at the golden hour, flooded in light, just after a sunrise,
In the serenity of wanton, floral summer, slowly unveiling a destiny prized.
Visits of friends were features of morning, for sunup fondness is infective,
As flowers soak up colors of white sunlight, telling of the new perspective.
Family and I fascinated flaming sunsets, fancy dancing like we had forever,
At evening fetes, long fated; like feathery, dark green ferns-wind treasure.
I lived in the house of taupe sunrise, always trending towards golden noon,
As fitful stars, flickering like fireflies, stay on course, in presence of moon.
Sunhats, sandals and pretty sunflowers, were summer sights on my street,
In tranquil days of wild seas, giving the selfsame roar, as it cooled hot feet.
Nearby stars gleamed like natural pearls, on nebulous nights of neighbors;
And the natural conversation flowed nonstop, like the whistling wind labors.
Bat orchids awaited watchful moon, yearning for caves among field flowers;
When ballerina orchids danced, entranced, by plum shadows' magic powers!
Crimson corpse flower was blooming, in a torrid wake, held in lazy summer,
And snapdragon seed pods imitated skulls, where future flowers slumbered.
One day dawned exceptionally beautiful, a sight bringing rapture to my eyes;
As plum and orange, merged with pink, gold and red-fleeing night disguised!
I went about my productive work, but I noticed the day did not seem to age,
Like a glorious history book caught open, when distraction didn't turn a page.
Although I was very puzzled, I relished a pause for precious, pretty mystery;
Like the lovely, floral pause of gemmed hummingbirds, in times of blissfully.
After several long and rapturous hours, testy time gradually began to move,
For a beginning ever looks towards the end, as if it had everything to prove!
She has no friends; the one friend that she had
she threw away for a silly reason.
Her father died, and she became so sad;
she has been four years now in grief’s season!
She denigrates her peers because she thinks
they lack her wisdom and maturity
and thinks that everything about life stinks,
thus oozing angst and insecurity!
She speaks her mind but doesn’t know how mean
she sounds to others or that all her strife
is felt by other teens at seventeen.
She’s soon to face a big change in her life.
Because her loved ones care, she’ll learn to grow.
The creep in her shall soon be letting go!
11/28/2016
I’ve spent many nights lying in the dark
This time is a period of self reflection
A journey that I’m all too terrified to embark
I’m naked on the examination table, performing my own dissection
My insides are poisoned with abhorrence and self doubt
I cannot see the good in myself
I know this can’t be how you hoped I’d turn out
My spot for accomplishments and good deeds is but an empty shelf
I can put my all into becoming someone better
I start to be happy and enjoy the finer things
Then I wake up in a sweat and look down to see the fetter
It seems as though I never severed the strings
This cycle of mine is a never ending tale
I open myself up and hope to be contented
Then I let the sorrow creep in and make my efforts derail
I have cursed myself to be forever tormented
Despite my reoccurring lachrymose state
I will always keep pushing forward
I will not allow this suffering to be my fate
I will fill my dreams with hope as I sleep peacefully in my bed
I am s p a c e …
… and I owe indeed my existence from God
The Author of my breadth, depth, and height ---
With the Lord’s abundance…
I am bestowed with worthy meanings:
earthly residence, glorious habitation, celestial abode ---
Along the Almighty’s omnipotence…
my value becomes costly with ascribed phrases as
green pasture, even land flowing with milk and honey ---
Around the Saviour’s omnipresence…
emptiness can never creep in, while He vanquishes void
filling me with His wondrous magnificence ---
Upon the declaration of the supreme Sovereign…
I am under perfect control, supervised by His wisdom
cognizant that He “sitteth upon the circle of the earth”* ---
Midst the Master’s tender mercy and gracious miracles…
I am optimized with functional maximization
while with faith**, utilizers of my offers, trust God in their stewardship ---
While in the Providence timetable…
my moments are significant, especially when urgency attacks
via the impact of every hour, day and year I demand ---
I thank and praise my MAKER for enabling my being and becoming occupied…
Yes, I am s p a c e
Devoid of the CREATOR, I am n o t h i n g***.
*Isaiah 40:22 It is he that sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers; that stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in.
** Hebrews 11:3 Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.
***Job 26:7 He stretcheth out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon nothing.
January 16, 2021
1st place, "Musings on Space" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 1/17/2021.
So far it's been 35 years since I started to roam the Earth, You only stood in my life from birth until i was 11months then left me with no trace not even a word.
I try to forget about you but in my mind you still creep in, Why put me through this mental torture was I such a sin ? I'm surprised you didn't throw me into a trash bin.
At times I fall asleep with tears in my eyes wondering what was your reasons for disappearing, also wondering if you did the same to my unknown siblings.
In fact it's a whole half of my bloodline that I don't know, Did you even advise them of my existence ? How can you as a "Woman" have a Heart so cold ?
As I grew older I tried to track you exhausting many options and logic, I guess I have better chances of meeting Jesus before we ever discuss this topic.
I was raised by my Paternal side of the Family who nurtured and watched me grow, Now I found the Woman who I will soon marry God willing adopt some children and start my own Family.
I am not poor nor am I rich 1 thing's for sure I will never be like you you disgraceful Witch, The pains you have caused me I would never wish on another since you decided to run and go in to deep cover, I'm glad I don't have to refer to you as a Biological Mother.
By: Shawn Muñoz
I creep in at night,
When all lights are out.
While you peacefully sleep,
When no-one’s about.
No stars in the sky,
No fresh baked bread.
Only you,
Me,
And my breath on your neck.
Hush now child, go to sleep,
For tonight you will dream,
And I will creep.
Through cracks in your walls,
Or holes in your floors.
It matters not, I have trained on scores.
I cut my teeth,
On bedposts,
And springs.
I sharpened my claws,
On cradles,
And dreams.
I perfected this dance,
Each child,
Each fright.
I hope to dance with you, child……..
TONIGHT!!!!
Opaque moon our beacon in the night's darkness
In the museum of time the nocturnal hours
are the most annoying.
We creep in the monolith shadows
hiding from the vicious and vindictive.
Frightened by the grim and gruesome
blown out of proportion by fear
and everything that's awful.
We look to the oval moon as a prelude
for delightful daylight.
We take pride and feel fortunate in finding
the dawn, blushing bright, victorious.
We patronize the amazing opening of day,
drawn to her light.
For Shadow's
Make a Poem *2
N/A’d
Darkness versus Light is the theme
Use all the words listed below
*Awful, *amazing, *annoying.
*grim, *gruesome, *delightful.
*frightened, *fortunate, *finding.
*monolith, *moon, *museum.
*oval, *opaque, *opening.
*patronise, *pride, *prelude.
*vicious, * vindictive, *victorious.
In all my years I've never seen
a face so weathered, yet seldom mean.
A semblance of a younger man
of whom I was the biggest fan.
A tired soul in eyes so hollow,
where he went this kid would follow.
Now he's resting more and moving less.
Is this what's left for God to bless?
Disease and age have beat him down,
yet no one ever sees him frown.
Mortal thoughts creep in as days go by.
What's it really like when we die?
But he won't dwell on that, with time so fleeting,
and his mind still sharp, despite the beating.
No he won't complain, why even bother?
My hero is this wonderful father.
A lonesome boat in the harbor rocks insanity.
Big waves of the black sea roll across the white sands
that fade into darkness for eternity.
Far from the life giving drops of rain are predators
in the city of shadows.
Feelings from the last solem breezes blow.
As the evening sun fades slowly into the night,
the pavement glistens like cracked glass
from the earlier evening rain.
A lack of silence remains.
In the city of shadows,
screaming voices creep in the corner of your mind.
Visions of the garden where the flowers died.
The dark alley reveals the emptiness of peace within your soul,
and death reveals the cold, cold truth way beneath the black crumbled earth.
Slapped with a strike of lightning,
disrupting the fall of silence where secrets crawl to hide,
in the foxholes of one's mind.
In the city of shadows, bewildered minds tick with the time of the clock.
Breath by breath falls perfectly out of place,
and darkness opens a new gate.
Tunes of the violin slowly fade away.
A new awakening to blindness,
in the city of shadows.
The secretive type
I like to creep in the night
when you hear me speak
under my breath to be polite
(i'm talking to you)
inconspicuous keep killing
the mystique building
I only speak to the
freakishly sick children
Across the countryside and into the grassland pastures;
inhabits the battle fields that segregate a Peony Rose.
Such as the gentle beauty of the rose that threatens those,
who are drawn to the undisturbed meadows of the divine,
and become caught in the thorn barb and twisted twine.
Coveted by the splendor of our sight,
we horde the natural beauty as it is our given right.
The Peony Roses are captivated in our possessive might.
The beauty must defend or to shatter and remain in a vibrant tatter.
For each life is to begin in the epoch,
of uncertainty, fruitless, and in a perilous world of bitterness.
As for all the desires to be fulfilled in the end of the epoch;
seeking meaning and clarity as their souls,
reaching for sweet unity.
In the courts,
man throws his mighty stick,
changing the rules, scheming a new trick.
See the weightless power of man
and the fear at hand that he brings.
In the churches,
the prayers of woman
in a quiet peace,
for a faithful praying
as she sings.
A vicious world with beauty,
hiding as a flower.
Attraction to peril in fury,
as we deviate from a greater power.
Was it a Greater Being’s perfect mistake,
or a beautiful mistake by elements of chance?
In the birth of creativity,
allowing mistakes to creep in.
Seeking the perfect form in nature,
while there is no true formality.
Living with these two extremities,
of the hot desert summers days
and the cold arctic winter nights.
The Peony rose hiding away in the sun rays,
and sleeps under the distant star lights.
Vanity or our pride of youth,
we become prisoners of our own devise.
Dreaming of tomorrow as a given truth.
Selfish thoughts we never considered unwise,
we desire for the things we can never own.
We covet what we see
The beauty we can never be.
The danger of the rose.
The aggressions of a Man
and the tenderness of a Woman
can be read by the hardness of his hands
and the softness of her touch.
Is it the end of a gentle beauty of the rose,
To look at her pedals, smell her sent,
feel her touch,
and still be pained by his thorns in the stem?
Autumn steals the long days from Spring,
The dawn sunrise turns pinker in the reflection of water
And the morning air is crisper.
Was it Autumn that stole your daughter too?
The season turns, the season flees.
In the way the oak tree clings to its leaves,
You take caution in letting go of the last
Like the carefulness in letting go of your daughter,
You tried your hardest, but you never caught her
And as the new season arrives, you unpack
Your heavy coats.
You learn to get used to missing the warm sunshine
And on the days where the Autumn leaves fall harder,
You crave to listen to the sound of your daughter’s laughter
Mingle with the sound of rustling leaves.
As Autumn deepens, your loss deepens,
Your grief deepens and
The colder days creep in.
Old oak now as naked as the nursery
Without your daughter sleeping
And Autumn winds howl, weeping,
Crying for relief from Fall’s feelings
The way your daughter cried for healing.
Was it Autumn that freed her too?
The season stirs, the season goes.
In the way the oak tree regrows
You open your heart just as the clouds open
To let through the warm sunshine.
You see her in the playfulness of the world’s colours,
You see her eyes in the shape of your mother’s
Do you feel her in the Autumn too?
Emptiness seems paler,
Within the wind and the movements,
Echoes begin to creep in,
Without a beat, beyond the warnings,
The effervescence that once fueled my tools now sears my lungs,
Collecting old shadows I left to rest from once upon a time,
Colors are only a delicacy for monsters,
And the taints in my spine are drained by dementors,
Fallen for the light that seeps through the wooden blinds,
Convinced, maybe this time!
It’s only right,
The stars can be kind,
At times the sky speaks in tears,
While the storm strikes the pillars of my heart with fears,
Visions creating instruments out of casualties in my storms,
I wonder sometimes, how much combat is left in my bones,
Resist to insist for joy,
Yet every step feels like a bridge I destroy,
I’ve shown my skin and strengthened my pride,
My words have lost their loom through the valley of my tribe,
One day I hope I doze off and find some ease,
For I know, no limbs of mine can do what love can please.
The winds of the night creep in on you and they are up and about.
They surround you in the darkness and shed you into some light.
They are given and they are taken with your most silent thoughts.
They pass through your hidden fears and come from plain sight.
The winds of the night so clever and discreet they really are.
They hold no boundaries to your beginning and nor to your end.
They are warm and they are cold rising above you and reaching up from far.
They are of their own power and hold onto all claims of their own.
The winds of the night come sending a message to the unknown.
The winds of the night are aimless but when directed they drift all together.
They are dangerous when calm at night a sight not even one has really seen.
They are unsettled with no balance yet predictable by where they all concur.
They capture what is felt and heard because they’re accepted as they’re deemed.
The winds of the night come and go for they are on a lifelong mission.
They are silent within your journey for they can not be spoken to or touched.
They exist for your life bringing the world into its final rule on deception.
The winds of the night carry enough strength to lead a massive world into the unjust!