Best Mascaraed Poems
Drifting beyond the lightest cloud.
Pastel clowns in postmortem rain parade.
Cascading in the cold moon dust
to shed this latest mascaraed.
Wounded memories hang loosely from the mind.
Autumn berries quivering three quarters past their prime.
When did "mediocre" pock the virgin tree.
When untruth told us, painting by numbers...
was our first gilded masterpiece?
Then entered our very first critique.
When honesty stated our works wasn't their cup of tea,
Like evening frost clinging upon a tender leaf.
A devastating reality.
They should have stated the slate cold truth.
as soon as we could breathe.
Categories:
mascaraed, art, introspection, life,
Form:
Rhyme
A Pet Peeve
By: Olivia Rodrigue
A smile that reeks desperation
A mascaraed eye batted intently
Your falsified figures and fancies
Undermine others of my generation
To think that a woman is only
Aesthetically valued and won
Is a peeve that’s been maddening many
But thought significant only by some
They bray at braless feminists
Thinking that these are the crazy few
Feminism means makeup-less monsters
That degrade men-as bitter shrews do
How can you laugh at oppression?
A word that history knows well
When minority rights and reactions
Have shaped how we act-what we sell
They painted the greats as extremists
They called activists nearly insane
But the genius among us would not bow
To the pressures that society named
Therefore I say bring on your follies
For the truth of the matter will be revealed
Though you peeve me with your ignorant statements
The injustice- once hidden -is unsealed
Categories:
mascaraed, future, gender, identity, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
If I could go to a Mascaraed Ball,
My pretty shoes, because I am short,
would make me look tall.
I would go all dressed in white lace, my
poise would be full of grace.
I would search the whole crowd through
for the one with a smile warm and true.
The one who's mask didn't hide his eyes
of blue.
Dance all night with him I may, like
Cinderella I would be gone before the
break of day.
A glass slipper I may never wear, but
my lipstick on his cheek, would bring
him stares.
When midnight rings it's bell, I'll be home
safe and warm with my story, tomorrow
to tell.
Categories:
mascaraed, dream, fantasy, humorous, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
Take me away where the butterflies flyway in the sky
So freely and high were the breeze guides my soul
Take me away from the stress of the everyday
Take me to a place where it pores rainbows as a sign of hope
We're familiar faces guide my hand to a better way to stand
Firm and believe better days to come and the sun reflects in my face
And the beat of my heart races excitedly to feel a new day is about to dawn
Take me away were not to face are the same one way or another
Where they smile in front and frown in your back were the ugly petards friendly
While plotting envy
Where destruction is their everyday feed were misery welcomes company
I keep away for fear to see right through they're mascaraed so proudly parade
Too close to home so sadly to say is their only way of keeping the fakeness real
I see many of things wisdom is a gift from above how to use it is a blessing
From within oneself, there will come a time when asked where you were
Close but yet so far once together now far apart once strong now weak
My knees are weakened but still I fall down to praise him that has gotten me this far
Opened my eyes to see the bees that surround me ready to strike as soon
As I drop my guard but one that is holy and mighty will guide my steps will be
My eyes and help me rise above all my transgressions before the storms cease
To calm its self down have to go through the motion of the oceans currents waves
Without drowning with sad emotions pulling me down my focus in the clear
Blue sky for signs of a bright sunny day my butterfly’s fly freely
And the wind shines play with the wind my favorite toon
I am on my way to better days for one that is greater guides the way
With the butterfly’s leading each step of the way I give him all of the praise
AMEN
Categories:
mascaraed, beautiful, blessing, butterfly, sky,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Hello,
Feelings of danger, just borderline from being a stranger. Wrapped with an emotional slice of anger.
When does it all stop? Popping tops , listening day after day, as the gun goes pop.
Knocks at the door; screams in the streets.
Heat rains down upon your head and feet. Wondering could you be here? Right this minute, in the now, or just my imagination lost, instead.
Dread the future, not knowing what it has in store.
Close narrow minded thinking, leaves you guessing, whats next behind the door.
Processing the urge to live free, even within the worse conditions.
These cruel intentions, that you forgot to mention. Full blown repartitions misleading contradictions, of others lone finger.
Linger in and out of consciousness, dazed, blazed and no longer amazed; lost in this mascaraed of slumber. Bearing witness to the things, that you think are true. When only escaping the pleasantry of times cracked view.
Hello, and you are?
Darius 1/13/17
Categories:
mascaraed, allusion, anger, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Light Verse
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 8
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
Twists itches in bums and bosoms of hope
Each in his own way straps on strappados
Mascaraed serene face trots on stilettos
Embryos oblivious violent lope
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
Paths to pleasure lead through stabbing throes
Sadistic brutes loved more than sweet husband dope
Each in his own way straps on strappados
Tigress nape stung deep in tiger-tooth jaws
Thumped fury of loins turns mother salope
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
The sacred act of making one life’s woes
Born of the terra moto gasping breath grope
Each in his own way straps on strappados
Still the Big-Bang whistles tinnitus mementoes
Is the Universe the result of wanton rape
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
Each in his own way straps on strappados
© T. Wignesan – Pars, 2015
Categories:
mascaraed, birth, desire, pain, passion,
Form:
Villanelle
red lights blinking rapidly
I didn't make the connection
as soft music floated unseen
from cars heaving with undulating motion
gentle, rhythmic, but forced upon
as ruby lips pressed into service
with legs spread wide, most welcoming
a toll bridge where the final cost
was negotiated and never preset
lying sighs to the different beats
hissing throughout the dead of night
expressing love, but was truly only
an example of cheap gratification
seen within heavily mascaraed eyes
wandering slowly, wondering about their lives
what story or lack thereof brought them to this
fumbling in the back seats of foreign cars
leather smells, the scent of money
or cows, depending on how they are perceived
of fish net stockings, with their scaly look
to hook ones attention, with come hither smiles
even in this seedy world are seen class distinctions
from the two dollar whore to the elegant madam,
who spreads their legs wide, while she reaps the rewards
untouched by the stench of leftover sex
that seeps from the pores of the overused
the numbers counted only upon her gold card
and the status that it so readily affords her
as her girls line up at free clinic doors
curing the diseases of the body but not the mind
what of the two dollar girls, lives exploded
in the harsh glare of the red light district
of addictions that drive them to sacrifice their bodies
let alone their souls to feed the hunger
always present, deep within, gnarling, crawling
an urge that never subsides, only controls
they no longer care of what happens to them
all that remains is the action, or as they lie
covered with another strangers body, the inaction
leading only to the ultimate reward of payment
yes, I visited the seedy underbelly
asks the questions and wondered aloud
but as I left looking back to see those blinking lights
I still made no connection to the lives
that are so sadly parked upon this lonely road
that surely leads to nowhere except their ultimate demise
Categories:
mascaraed, people, sad, social,
Form:
Free verse
A Man of Strength and Courage
(A Man Of Beauty And Respect)
A True Story
Who was he? He called himself the
unknown Poet, my great great great
grandmother's uncle Joe. He lived
a long exciting life, loving one woman
in time of war.
A Martin Trapper he was, an artist of fine
design, a poet in his time, a fine gentle
soul of the universe capturing each
thought writing them down in journals
and poetry.
If you should ask him what he believed
in! he would say; “I believed in God, sounds
of nature, love of mankind, love of words
anything to do with nature is where my
heart roams best.”
He was true to his own beliefs, a man
of heart, determination, a man who
would walk a mile in another man's shoes.
He was the heartbeat of the land, a
true mountain man of the wilderness.
He wore leather, long hair, beard a loving heart
for all animals including the bear, he grew
closer to as he traveled the mountains
year after year doing his Martin trapping
for food. He was a God-fearing man
of courage and strength all his own.
He was truly remarkable, who
fought with George Armstrong Custer
and the men of the 7th Cavalry where
they met their fate and the Sioux on June
25, 1886, at the Battle of the Little Big
Horn'. Uncle Joe was sent to get
reinforcements at the age of fifteen
when he returned, they found them all
mascaraed. Including (George Armstrong
Custer).
Many of his journals, poetry and
sketches were burned in a trailer
fire, but to this day, still remember
at a young age trying to read his poetry
I do remember seeing some of his sketches
he had sketched with pencil by candlelight
in his cabin in the winter in the Canadian
Mountains.
One sketch I remember well was of
a lovely lady dressed in a long gown
with hair piled high upon her head
she looked lovely.
That winter was long and cold and Joe
never returned home from his trapping
the Royal Mounted Police found him dead
next to the creek by his cabin. He died
of starvation.
This is just part of his story my great great
great grandmother told me of her uncle Joe. I
wish she would have told me more about his life.
I want to pass this on to my family so they can keep
passing it down from generation to generation.
Copyright ? DerenaBree( All Rights Reserved). Publishing ? Man of strength and Courage®( All Rights Reserved.)
Categories:
mascaraed, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
We walk about bristly in the heat of the day,not knowing when it will happen.
Some watch mere predictions on picture screens before setting out to complete routine tasks;
but who is to say what will happen for the unknown dwells with us.
I see a beautiful lady frisking her hair, wiping prespire from her mascaraed face whilst
pushing a stroller along the busy sidewalk.
A dog sits in the shadow of a street sign; its mouth gaped in a state of exasperation.
Without warning it happens...........the first wave of attack.
An obscure lone drop comes down and taps you on your shoulders.
You look around feverously ...but see no one in view.
An audious rumbling is heard above your head sending everyone in motion.
The downpour occurs and the smell of dampened earth cuts the once humid air;
The ground is filled with myriads of liquid puddles collected in different places.
Those who are armed hold up their array of colorful shields to fend off the heavy invasion ,
whilst those who are not,scamper about in astonished utter despair.
Categories:
mascaraed, imagination, nature, parody, seasons
Form:
Narrative
The porcelain empyreal
Blended itself
Like a bride
In the palette of
Amber blush.
It contoured it's
Cheek bones of mounts
With liquid onyx,
With ruby mascara
It mascaraed it's lashed rays
That curled down
On the waterline of its eyes,
And with the orange veil
It cloaked & hid it's
Shy face covering and
Containing the sky.
From: India
Copyright ©: 15 March, 2016
Categories:
mascaraed, beauty, bridal shower, mountains,
Form:
Free verse
Outside
the crimson pout is not me
and my soul denies the mascaraed lashes
while an imitation smile hides tears
within the pseudo echo of myself
a shadow with painted lips
that say the right words
and my spirit stays silent and broken
inside
Inside
I hear you calling my name
but it can never be mine
you call me she but I am he
and the boy cries into the silence
while my eyes look for answers
outside
Outside
alcohol, drugs, sex and self-hate
no answers came
no words of comfort in the endless night
as I hear him cry and feel his pain
inside
Inside and outside in disarray
no balance of mind
as the tears washed away the painted shadows
of self like the rain in a storm
until nothing remains but him
inside, outside
the same
© JG Farmer 2017
Categories:
mascaraed, change, destiny, identity, life,
Form:
Free verse
The needle exchange
The junk don’t kill no pain
The junk inside wears a mascaraed
The junk relies on a needle striking a vein
The junk denies why you are afraid
The junk will make your mind insane
The junk is a hell with a dancing band and a show parade
The junk is you when I look and you’re estranged
The junk takes you far away
The junk will survive while leaving an empty stage
The junk lets you always pay
The junk supplies and kills all your rage
The junk tears a whole today
The junk is staring at a television set and the sun is a cage
The junk takes your life and for nothing you’ve exchanged
Categories:
mascaraed, art,
Form:
Young lady! Yes, You!, I’m talking to you!
What do you see looking in a mirror?
Do you see a pretty face as I do?
You do? You’re sure about that? Stand nearer
My dear and look into mascaraed eyes
In deeper, deeper still, into your soul.
Does beauty reign in that realm undisguised?
External beauty plays a minor role
In life. Now, my dear, stand back from the glass
See what’s behind you? No? It’s your shadow
A faceless non-irradiated mass
Devoid of beauty and class, this you know.
It has accompanied you from the start
While beauty waned your soul became its heart.
Categories:
mascaraed, lossbeauty, beauty,
Form:
Sonnet
Broken Hearts ??????
Pain which lingers on forever in the mascaraed of our bleeding hearts, we subject ourselves to vulnerability caution to the wind of the darks, you are this & I am that now let’s all play our parts, powerplays of attraction dancing on the lakes of the ozarks, pure essence & innocence is essential from the start, two souls unite slowly but progressively with each quark, once you get past the rituals of some dates you crawl out your skins like some snakes, the ones who give up are the flakes, consistency is key & the way to keep it cakes, our broken hearts are our own mistakes, imperfect is how we function, 1000 moments of disaster, forgiveness & honesty the horror & brutality of those who choose calamity, make sense of their insanity, work smart work together, ride through the stormy weathers, ride through
the stormy weathers.
The best to you both in your future endeavors.
No more broken hearts, too many broken hearts, wipe each other’s tears sow each other’s lively broken hearts.
?? ?? ??
Categories:
mascaraed, art, beautiful, betrayal, break
Form:
Romanticism
I don’t fit in and I don’t mind,
This world is slightly colorblind.
Smiles shaded as if at a mascaraed ball,
Some day that will be their fall,
I don’t fit in and it’s just fine,
This world is lost and can’t seem to find,
There way back to that narrow path,
Walking towards the light and away from wrath,
I don’t fit in and neither should you,
That is when you know that you are being true,
Eternity calls and we answer with our lives,
While the rest of the bunch are stuck in bee hives.
By: Sabina
Categories:
mascaraed, faith, hope, inspirational, world,
Form:
Couplet