Best Physiognomy Poems
If I Were Blind
I could see your face
with soft inquisitive fingers
trekking across the hills
and valleys of your physiognomy
you, of course, would sit quietly
with eyes closed not wanting to
look into my broken mirrors
from which all sign of soul
had escaped long ago.
but I am fool and blinded
by what I see, unable to penetrate
beyond my fingertips into the truth
golden verity of the sweetness
the ardent nature that is you
your face is worn with life
it stops me like a wall
your depth will not catch me so I fear
instead it will demand from me
more than I can ever be
I will be unmasked.
Categories:
physiognomy, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
Capturing human mood and emotion
A feature of portrait photography
Is much more effective when it is done
In shades of black and white creatively
Downward curved lips and a furrowed forehead
Mark emotions of sadness and worry
Whereas lips that are curved upwards instead
With wide-opened eyes show someone is happy
Lines etched in human physiognomy
And the different shapes of lips and eyebrows
In black and white stand out much more strongly
Highlighting various emotions aroused
john beharry
3/25/2015
Categories:
physiognomy, color, emotions, feelings, film,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Neath shimmered strings of starlight’s breeze, crepuscular in night
on trodden soil he lay with slumbered eyes.
Lashed to oak, his chestnut mare in dream just out of sight
snaps free as lightning flashes; flares the skies.
Bounds to foot with double stride; yet late his capture earns
a feeble grip on equine hoof afoot,
his trusty steed, as mist might drift through juvenile sown ferns,
has vanished like dark ebbing motes of soot.
Miles from home, no transit back, bewildered by events
considers how to forge his journey home,
perplexing state, a quandary, unravels and presents
the only choice he has, which is to roam.
Through thicket thick, forest green, cross arid plains of dust
unto the homestead poised for his return,
discordant thunder stills his heart; wriggles in as thrust
compels him, for he knows they too do yearn.
For passage spry and safe, and quiescent nights on swag
now rolls his bed with reins onto his back;
through sheathes of rain, in startled fright, a lonely Sambar stag
hoof striking ground, preparing to attack.
Muzzles drawn, the beast is felled yet antlers gore both arms
as motion peters awkwardly apace,
bandages his wounded wings as parent-like alarms
resound upon the visage of a face.
Hidden by the brush, the physiognomy not seen
now trundles to its father’s fallen side,
its death is beyond doubt, lest his hand does intervene
to raise the fawn the way the buck had tried.
A careful snouted nudge from the fawn as sunup blooms
arises him from sleep, but only just,
passes over arid plains then through the vista looms
the iron gates of home bedimmed by dust.
Collapses through the gates on the soiree of her birth
returning home disheveled and delayed,
bent on being present so she’d never know a dearth
of every night, his whispered serenade.
Strength, in time, would vivify, recouping over weeks
the erred reason for his sullied trip,
remains on blocks, left un-repaired, despoiled by the leaks
and placed the fawn forever by her hip.
Eyes well up recalling, every year from that day on
his little girl’s elated monkeyshines,
when the gown was given her, how happiness had shone
into his heart his journey’s worth entwines.
Categories:
physiognomy,
Form:
Light Verse
Rear view mirror
Objects, objectively put, are closer
than they appear. But it doesn’t say it all.
With the fair signs that spewed forth once turning to
a slew of pre-twitter pseudo- tweets since.
I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
In rhyme scheme: aab, bb, ccc .
(“ At the wheel
At night. Uneasy feel.
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.
Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist,
Comforting coolness and sultry night coexist .
Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)
A row of earthy images it failed
rather than showed ,images with eerie
librations and weary nutations .Which
was not Physics, but physiognomy of life.
Like when bashed by kiddy badasses and
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but math a behemoth
all the same, and guided perfunctorily
often, and rarely with the right intent.
In the peccadilloes- round, the Tintern
Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans
creativity , but the three trees on
the low sky made sense , and then on to
T.ds. equations and tedious times
soured by sleep and steep sloth.
Ingenious in fair measure , now turning
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after,
in the space of a couple of cusps of
light and sound mom was no more and we
whimpered and simpered under a dad who cared
but did not seem to, in his straight-faced mode
Then came falsely flashing , faintly fuming ,
slapdash years of machines and mega hertz,
eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.
Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);
preferring palm-frond’s loftiness cum
deprivation to urban up-for-grabs
benefaction; and the mess of docs, deaths
and a mossy crock of living pain since.
And all the dicey way , never patted
but p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed;
banked on , debunked ; short-changed, sort-of-changed ;
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering
and if anything wondering if it’s
not all the mirror’s prim fault
which never once showed my face.
Categories:
physiognomy, life,
Form:
Free verse
IVF
Times without number
That’s as far as one could remember
Or better still conjecture
At this end of this ocean we stood, at the edge
Aghast at the tardiness of virility
Invisible except for its vivid physiognomy
That swirled and rolled and spent itself
In a recurring recuperation of empathy
Till rains agoraphobic arrived
As a successful ‘in vitro’ in the glass sky
A sodden blast of breeze scattering a mound of leaves
Breathing into the fertile insides
Slick in fermentation
Sticking to sticky bloodied life.
9 Mar 13
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
Entry for Rick Parise's contest
For PD's 'Freeverse contest' now on 13 mar 13
Categories:
physiognomy, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
LEGAL ROMANCE
Law,
Let me plague you
With the infectious love of my heart.
Now that I bear the aftermath of your infections,
And your cold blood boils in me
Like a volcanic eruption,
Let me make babies in the factory of your womb.
My amorous cuddlesome arms
That carry a legal contagion with them,
Let them rip you apart in the angiospermy of my farms
Till every cell in me carries the logo of your emblem
And the semblance of your physiognomy.
Law my love,
Let me be your troubadour,
And I will traverse all the corners of your contours.
With my fluorescent searchlights,
That can seek out all the unexplored
Juicy regions of your legions,
Let me be your spouse or your civil partner
Or at least your intimate cohabitant.
Allow me a minute into the gate of your thighs
And I will dig you damn deep,
Till I plant legal seeds in your flowery uteri,
And we shall fill the entire universe with prodigies
Greater than the Denning’s
Mightier than the Atkin’s
Weightier than the Uwais’s
And more Solomonic than the Tobi’s.
Law my love,
Your untainted mammary prowess
That dangles like a pendulum in their tabula rasa state,
Let it be the sole source of my resource
That waters my thirsty fountain.
Consort with me, and I will consult with you,
And let our royal consortium
Breed in me Lilliputians strong enough to gut Gulliver.
I love you, Law my love
And I doubt if there can be a better lover.
I love your Calliopsis hair
I love your Helen lids and lashes
I love your Cleopatra eyes
I love your Bathsheba nose
I love your Aphrodite lips
And I love the curviness of your womanness.
Law my love,
Let me sing to you a serenade sweeter than Senghor’s,
For you are my day, my night and my Naett.
And let me enjoy the irrevocability of being—
Your stare decisis
Your res ipsa loquitur
Your res judicata
And your issue estoppel.
-Bolaji Ramos, Esq.
copyright 2017
Categories:
physiognomy, fantasy, funny love, lust,
Form:
Ode
with noticeable burgeoning bosom in the offing, ahoy
this baby faced blubbery bosom beastie boy
fast becoming a bra man,
and might hire himself out
as a male wet nurse for employ
ment, cuz when stark naked on shark tank,
I behold two bopping, brewing, busting
flap jacks in search of a frying pan,
which change in my physiognomy doth annoy
but, suddenly spurring,
this ordinarily calm, cool, and collected chap
positing even a more radical income idea
changing ma name to Chester, letting hooters
get suckled, though,
methinks they qualify as milk duds
tit two siamese twin guys christened ell and roy
offering accompanied with serving of cookies,
where adipose floppy blimps
rank popular as novel cheap toy
where art though washboard stomach,
where brestworks didst sprout
as if overnight a markedly increased
from flat “Joe” six pack chest did an about
face, with squishy, mushy, and doughy
sprang up without doubt
suddenly forcing a sexual identity crisis,
which freaky phenomenon makes me wanna pout
for weird, wicked woebegone
affects the psyche of this lviii aged lout
wondering what other transitions,
this fellow may indeed be on the look out
feigning to traverse (in me mind) badgering
rugged hormonal secretion terrain akin to a girl scout
on the prowl targeting a peeping tom,
whose foolery demands clout,
thus this imposed unfair punishment,
as some half assed irreversible decree
maybe hints of other surprises,
yet tubby revealed, which haint no fallacy
possibly being brewed up by a brood
of bruiting imps of the pervert with glee
some bot sized microscopic
anti bosom buddy hood stolen the genetic key
analogous to a pesky malware,
virus, trojan horse secrete lee
scheming to transform the sexual identity of me
perhaps waking up tomorrow minus
my little peppy ***** , and behold a pussy
should such an outcome prevail,
where media papparazzi
stake out this freak of nature re:
doubling efforts erecting fortifications
in a big old sassy tree,
especially if the press
(i.e. particularly meaning Wikileaks)
discovers ability to experience infinite orgasms
converting sexual predilection into electric utility.
Categories:
physiognomy, adventure, age, anxiety, creation,
Form:
Romanticism
Santa has a problem,
Mrs. Claus is really sore,
Working one whole day a year,
She hardly sees him anymore.
Even on his days off
He's hanging out with elves,
Or playing games with reindeer,
Or restocking toyshop shelves.
Could it be that he no longer thinks she's hot?
What do elves and reindeer have that she ain't got?
But Mrs. C. knows just what she will do,
When he gets back this time,
She'll be brand new.
She'll go out shopping for clothes,
And maybe nip-tuck her nose,
Then on to address some excess adipose.
Her bosom's rather small,
So she'll enlarge it.
When asked how she will pay,
She'll just say "Charge it!"
"Then maybe he will pay attention to me.
He certainly will when the credit card bill comes due!"
But will it be enough to change him?
Dare she try to rearrange him?
The big galoot is how he is.
Still, he is hers, and she is his,
And his Christmas biz is all that gets them through.
Santa knows he's been neglectful,
But what's a guy like him to do?
Can't disappoint the girls and boys
Who all depend on you.
And, it's true, they don't go out much,
Sometimes to a coffee bar,
But living at the North Pole,
You can only go so far.
Now he has a little secret
He hopes will make her less upset,
Next year he plans to work from home
And just use the internet.
But he won't let her know that right away.
He'll wait 'til he's back home,
And they have some time alone,
Because he's really keen to see
Her brand new physiognomy
Before he springs his big surprise
On Christmas Day.
Categories:
physiognomy, christmas, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
Impermanence
We’re waves
Thaw, melt and freeze
Impermanence of breeze
We're castles of sand -
Leveled by bully's hand
We’re spider webs and beaver dams all
Mists and illusions ephemeral
We’re mountains disappearing
We’re rivers just appearing –
Carrying cliffs to emerald sea
We’re a smile of effervescent tea
We’re the sparkling wines that fizz
We’re the physiognomy of phiz
We’re a never lasting permanence
We’re dewing drops of excellence
We’re flying feathers of wren
We’re lotus gardens of Zen.
We're Qi.
Categories:
physiognomy, introspection, nature,
Form:
Couplet
Short but beautiful,
Beautiful and dutiful.
Dutiful in deligience,
Deligent and intelligent.
The mood of thy pleasantries,
Wroth fables of dignities.
Your egg-y shaped physiognomy,
Mount emotions in hurry.
The smiles of thy face,
Is embroided with bewitching triats.
The venom of thy eyeballs,
Pierce through the rigidity of juvenile's hall.
You're wonderfully made,
And gorgeously create.
None can thy bride price paid,
But a Juvenile bewitched with grace.
Me-take this not as a woo,
But a praise of my friend boo.
When i think of you,
With the aid of celestial rule.
The shape of your shadow,
Barges into life more hollow.
Thou art a queen: Indeed,
Full of optimum grace to feed,
All being that cross thy path,
And blossomly for they that are your part.
Me-take this not as a woo trends,
But as a praise to my boo's friend.
Haddassah: Esther,
Yea,the queen of all fiestas.
Thou art been metamorphosed,
To light from darkness force.
Thou owe worry no dime,
For with you has my g.f dine.
And she'd promised me heartily,
To convey you relentlessly to his territory.
The Elegant maiden of his sanctuary!
c.2017
Categories:
physiognomy, beauty,
Form:
Ode
aye savor the faire genetic blueprint
extant unique to each of us
with this quite alimentary aire
including (that almighty,
bottom, cushiony, dimpled,
excretory functioning Gluteus Maximus
i.e. the tushy when bare
with subtle difference sans,
both halves at first blush,
but tucks upon closer scrutiny
obvious inexactness crystal clear
as a bell jar, asper each body electric,
whence deserved of en dear
ments despite however much junk in the trunk
behind the private
no trespassing (non verbalized)
signs posted everywhere
off limits only to a select few like this bard
attired as if from the Renaissance Faire
whose unconditional acceptance
unlike the majority hoo gawk and glare
if bipedal hominid dealt
chromosomal traits say with excessive hair
which mane of tangled strands,
could be problematic and interfere
with coaxing, finagling,
or inducing friendship with an initial jeer
from him or her averse
toward such imperfection to boot
huff lawed physical human specimen
such as this ole coot
(who haint really that old),
can upon command execute
a feigned display
and appealing as fresh field picked fruit
at this stage of ma life
donut give a rats ass, nor an owlish hoot
what other may decry about me,
cuz self acceptance doth agree
buzzing with greater confidence, esteem,
and general weaknesses such
as lack of physiognomy incongruent cee,
which asymmetry of this primate feel free
er than his pre/post pubescent
corporeal essence he
near put himself in the hand
of that grim reaper, a key
poor of lifeless beings,
and well nigh got hold da mee
when in the throes up
(vis a vis not bulimia) on Swiss side prithee
and as a solitary mwm gives no re
guard no matter others may find fault
in the stars at my lack of sim mutt tree
gnome hatter judgements made
I accept mice elf warts and all – yippee!
Categories:
physiognomy, blessing, care, celebration, how
Form:
Free verse
Why Crippled America?
Any presidential nominee thus far,
Anyone ever in long history’s past,
Could’ve called America crippled,
A high look upon disability to cast.
Disability is now curable sometimes,
And healthcare stands sturdily tall,
As a nation’s proudest profession,
As our greatest step and tribal call.
So the analogy to disability power,
The relationship of doctor/patient,
Could be used by any great politician,
To explain his policies and argument.
But I believe that any candidate knows,
To deliberately dismiss this slogan,
To in determination bypass disability,
As a succinct method of explanation.
It’s what goes to make a man great,
A politician tick and get it right,
A women see the good and justice,
Of the Syrian migrant’s plight.
So Trump should be sued, slammed,
By disabled people in a law court case,
For debasing their physiognomy,
For knifing their contributive face.
He does not pertain to disabled people,
Now, after all of that in any way,
And if you are aware of disability,
Then don’t give him the time or day.
Categories:
physiognomy, america, discrimination, image, leadership,
Form:
Rhyme
JUST A DROP !
Immaculate and pure.
Without blemish nor blame, only flames of beauty- which kills.
Two ripen pawpaws, sharp like the peak,
Of an hummingbird.
Her physiognomy, brooding eyes and a thin neck.
Her bewitching gap, like a termite’s.
No blemish, if any, blame the sculptor.
I begged her “Can I draw from thy well ?”
She gazed at me, paused and smiled, intentionally to kill me.
“Nay; it’s soiled.”
I pressed again, quench my thirst,my thing troubles me”
Reluctantly she answered “I am living dead,young man,GO AWAY FROM ME “
How it cuts mercilessly to my inside marrow.
Toned between tears I felt into her arms, she held me like a baby and whispered “Friend, I am rotting inside “
I mustered up my bravado , ” You are not dead , I can touch you, nI feel you. Just a drop and am done….”
She graciously warned “You are pure, don’t die soon son of my mother”
I nagged her, ”To wet my thing…which troubles me.”
When I insisted,she yielded to the calling of my ‘ other being’.
She embraced me.Our lips met in the air,
Filled with the ambience of romance…or was it infatuation?
I grabbed her madly,I held her to my tiny broad breast.
Hers heaved to and forth.
She trembled.
I died, or so I thought.
In a flash of an eye, I had traversed her well.
TO AND FRO-once and I felt contented.
CONSCIOUSLY,I gazed at her, who now lied beside me.
Accusingly I querried” What have you done? Who are you?”
She replied between sobs, “My well is contaminated. You have drawn from my well, we are dying souls.”
Before I could chip in, she added “If you die early, I promise to attend your last prayers! And if I die early, attend mine. Do you know why, Because my people will recognize you in ‘MY LIST ‘
I sort absolution from God, and comforted myself “Whoever confesses their sins, shall be forgiven “
I woke up.
Categories:
physiognomy, betrayal, emotions, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
While growing up
The creed my culture inculcates that
Respect ye thy elders
Is now lying lifeless outside the beautiful 20th century's gate.
.
Little did I move than I realized a frozen limb
After her little palm roughly caressed my weedy chin
Somewhat close to a Shrek's touch.
It had garnered enough momentum for the feat.
.
My voice filled the entire room within me.
My 'Ha' bears little weight of exclamation
But I mumbled it with lips agape
As I watched her proud-to-do physiognomy disappear
Through the door before me.
.
As my heart, thuds the wall of my ribs
I danced, enjoying the sour melody all alone.
But the cadence drastically dropped till death
And there I remained motionless
As tears' fountain seem dry.
.
Wake up! Again I yelled but within
"Pursue" my heart advised "rip her."
But did I hear 'sorry sir?'
Like they that dream, I found just enough strength
To recall all what seem like hours, but 'twas minutes
Which unfolded even under the nose of my Lover.
.
"Seventeen years age difference washed down the drain?"
"You should command respect for yourself" father roared.
Jostling me back to now.
"Sorry sir" just like her, I said.
Cause and effect, my ears still echoes...
Categories:
physiognomy, age,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Amelie Beth Harris - Born December 1st, MCMLVII
A bouncing baby girl did await,
asper occasion
about nine months
ex post facto,
when vibrant parents
eagerly did copulate
consigning thrifty
mechanically engineered
genes from Boyce Harris,
and licensed
practical nursing traits,
viz Harriet Harris
which call of the wild
to pro create,
sans the natural
sequence of events
destined to happen
after first date
processes of biological
reproduction didst emanate
delivered courtesy of UPS
(United Pelican/
Stork Service),
who delivered bundle of joy
to afore
mentioned young couple
at their designated residence
in Patterson, New Jersey
luck of the draw
paired chromosomes,
where resultant daughter
matured into a great
socially conscious
person genetically
gifted her physiognomy
with aesthetically
pleasing physique,
and during puberty
bosom did amply inflate
racking up immediate late
tent of lads pulsating, quivering,
and raging red bull
stud ding, and drip
ping with testosterone
approximately backtrack in time
(741 months, 3180.72 weeks
22265.04 days,
534360.96 hours ago),
when ejaculated slime
gave this sole jarring brother
the reason for this rhyme
and served as "big sister"
buffer in prime
merrily when yours truly,
when my mere existence
ranked (to mean
bullies) as a crime.
Categories:
physiognomy, age, appreciation, bullying, celebration,
Form:
Elegy