Best Sensitive Poems
I once knew a poet named Andrea.
Assaulted by someone’s hysteria,
she wouldn’t engage,
but feeling some rage,
she fought all night long with insomnia.
(It's kinda true!!!)
They say I’m sensitive
Negative connotation
A shroud they want to wrap me in
And put the blame on me
It’s only a joke, you see
Overly sensitive
That’s me
I smile
Positive connotations, my wile
Oh…I’m OVERLY sensitive
It’s true
The throbbing and pulsing
That makes other women sigh
Takes me to the stratosphere high
Senstations multiplied
I sigh
I cry
I die
And lie
Open
Sensitive to every touch
To every nuance
To every breath
Body quivering
Mind in overdrive
I thrive
On pleasure
Every cell
Sensitive
To touch
To tongue
To lips
To fingers
To thoughts….
To…..W~O~R~D~S
Dipped in sensitivity
Meant to awaken
The sultry sensual me
Oh...I'm OVERLY sensitive
To my lover’s needs
Wanting to please
Tease
Make him weak…
Unable to speak
Waiting for that butterfly caress
That unbuttoning of the dress
That peek a boo see through lace
That wanton hungry…”feed me” face
I trace
every place
sensitive to the signs
that make him come alive
To satiate, my pride
I rule and provide
His momentum...I guide
OVERLY sensitive
till want and need
are released...freed!
OH….I’m OVERLY sensitive
Yes, It's true
and here's a warning
a warning to you!!!
Don’t mess with me
Unless you want to see
Anarchy!!!
I’ll draw blood
In your "knock her down" revelry
I'll win
I'll fly and be free!!
I’m OVERLY sensitive
That’s me
But I’d rather be this way
Desire delirious
Mayhem mad
Passion proned
Happy honed
OVERLY sensitive people
Like ME
We....
LIVE life
Moment by moment
Second by sensual second
sensitive and alive
we thrive
we survive
Overly sensitive
ALIVE!
Eileen Manassian
I once knew a poet named Carlene.
Whom you would assume was quite serene.
But screw-up, you'd better not!
Or you'll be in for a shock!
For her '***** slaps' can be unforeseen.
Written Feb. 24, 2016 for contest
Sponsored by: SKAT A
An original, poem on the theme of .....Sensitive Community ........
Since a little girl, I have been sensitive. Hiding behind mother was my place to be.
Mother used to say that I was born different. My eyes were pools of sadness, dark
brown and full of sorrow. As I grew words said effected me deeply. I did not brush
them off, that was not me. The words were like scars on my soul, they dwell there.
Terrible, awful death shadowed my days and how I handled it was to go deep within.
I dwelled there, happy with imagination. I made up stories and lived them. I would
read books in a secret corner of the attic. I liked to wander the woods near home.
I saw things there that touched me, little baby birds, young squirrels playing, nature
growing all around me. I told my sadness to my kitty, she was a good listener.
in woods wandering
I find my sweet peace and tranquility-
green lush vines creeping
Soon, I was a teenager. I was quiet and alone in my private world. Words lashed at
my soul like whips. Perhaps the words were not even that terrible, I twisted them
that way. I was extremely sensitive and it was a curse. Yet, in the end it turned out
to be my most precious quality, sensitive to all I see and feel in this world has made
me the poet that I am today. I can now write with soul all that I see wrong in the
world with emotion. But part of the little sensitive girl hides inside of me, often she
is hurt by a word said, even if innocently said. It is a curse and a blessing.
the birds are chirping
they are calling me to the green lushness-
words fall from my pen
_______________________________
April 16, 2016
Poetry/Haibun/Sensitive Is My Shame
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 778-484-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
~ that's dashed with pain - frozen tears on the cheek ~
19.01.2018
Sun :) A-L Andresen :)
9 words
10 syllables
howmanysyllables.com
I am so mean
It's unbelievable
God said "believe it"
I see something in me that I didn't like
- a darker side of me
I can make you mad
And I can make you sad
All in the power of my hand
And THAT I didn't like
Nobody can have control of anybody
And I constantly see me affecting other people
Am I hypersensitive?
I don't think so
But just the thought of making other people sad
makes me sad
I don't want to make anybody feel sad
or bad
But what can I do?
I am constantly making mistakes
I am constantly correcting myself
Am I destined to live a life a self reprimand?
Why can't I just live
and let it go to Hades?
Why can't I just be?
Do I really care?
Why should I care?
That is NOT my problem
Why should it be my problem?
Why should I care what others think and do?
I am not the world's feel it all
That is not my problem
I should not care what others feel and see
I should care of only myself
My world
consists of only me
Or is it?
God you'd better take this thing away from me
before I really do a lot of damage
What? I don't know
But I just can't stand of having too much control
of other people
Am I nuts?
Yeah how else do you explain me having control over you?
I don't even have control over myself
How else I would you?
But that is the way God intended to
Us - having control over other people
What we say and do does affect others
It can cause them to have a bad day
And it can cause them to have a good day
Don't kid yourself
If only we think
and take an extra step to have the words we say
to people
to be a selected word
- a meaningful word
- an empowered word
If only we can select a second to do the thing
we mean to do
- a gentle touch, a certain smile
Everything doesn't have to be so sexualized
that we forget to touch others
in a meaningful way
That is my take for the day
whether I am doing it is another story
God, help! Lol
Really I mean it
Help me to sort out the things
that need to be sorted out
Help me to know what needs to be done
'cause this thing is not all mine
Yours
Isn't it?
I once knew a poet named “Susan”
Who first found PS quite confusin’
Learn forms she was told
Free verse overload
Blogs, contest N/A not amusin’
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Written 2-24-2016
For Sensitive Community 'a pd contest'
Limerick
8th Place
Unseen upon my heart,
capturing every nuance,
always awake and aware though the whole world is sleeping,
my mother's ears, like sensitive sonar, are listening.
An umbilical tether, pulling, tugging,
alerting me to your danger and your joy,
my mother ears discern your need.
My ears feel you like a surgeon's hands,
sensitive, probing, seeking out your heartache.
Laughing, they share your joy
and taste your victories,
delicious mother candy.
Since before your birth,
these mother ears have known the unknowable,
thought the indescribable,
anticipated the best about you.
They do not frame my face;
my mother ears frame my heart
and are shaped like love.
© Faye Lanham Gibson, May 4, 2015
I see you lying in the grass
your sensitivity showing.
And, with each breath of gentle breeze
you blush, as your leaves are closing.
Your sensitivity showing
to all who share your carefree dreams.
When twilight sets your hair aglow,
you melt, in shadowy moon beams.
And, with each breath of gentle breeze
My love for you grows ever more.
As you secret yourself from me,
my tender feelings you ignore.
You blush, as your leaves are closing
tightly against the whispered wind,
as if you held beneath your green
secret thoughts of amorous sin.
10/17/15
Naive Guillotine
I once knew a poet named Balveen
Whose heart was not a touchscreen
Confused when she read some barbs
Until she was shot by shards
She rued at their naive guillotine
Syllables per line-97779
February 29, 2016
Contest : Sensitive Community
A PD Contest
I am a foolish jocker
And I only know to bring a smile on your face
But I still have a soft sensitive heart
Which can only cry in the silent dark
I am a foolish jocker
I only know to love & I can't express
I am loving you sincerely
Where my eyes expressed these words many times to you
But you never respond to me
Every Valintine's day you are with a new boy friend
I am still the same foolish jocker
And I am trying to bring a smile on your face
Now I forget to smile
And waiting for the next valentine's day
I have many greeting cards which I bought every year
To wish for Valentine's day, Christmas , New Year ---------
And I want to greet you and celebrate with you
But every time I am alone and you are with some one
Years going like seconds
And my hope is still at the same place
Here everyone celebrating these celebrations
And everyone's glass filled with champagnes and wines
But nobody there to see my wet eyes
Nobody there to wipeout my broken tears
Then suddenly , I wiped out my tears
I slowly realized that I am alone here
I made this lonliness as my best friend
But I promise you my love that when you become alone
There will be still a hand waiting for you
Please understand me and release me from this torture of lonliness
I once knew a poet named Luke,
His only good write was a fluke,
Though comments are kind,
His work’s still maligned,
He's the butt of his own self-rebuke.
How hilarious is being born
with a highly sensitive nature;
this is unmanly and very rare
for someone seldom forlorn.
If transformation took place on a public stage,
I would be an enraged marionette
attached to strings that a puppeteer
would pull them up and make me act;
and sadder than a tearful boy without
a toy: I'll kick my performance into fast gear!
Would I be a tiny Pinocchio made of wood and nails?
I hate to lie, skip school and be another rascal;
Charlamane the Lion fits me better by all means:
Bill Baiter is quite funny, his jokes can crack a wall!
How silly is to assume that no great stature
is found in those with a highly sensitive nature;
hiding emotions and feelings and not burst out
into hard laughter with friends is missing out a lot!
i am a very sensitive man
live in the horror of restaurants
those with those long salad bars
the celery are mostly quiet
it is the tomatoes that moan the loudest
broccoli screams tempest across the room
carrots bear the misery best
exists in a shredded mess
Vidalia onions chorus with the red
survival that aromas sweetly
from table to table
watching lettuce and cabbage
disappear down the throats
above the silent ears
that cannot hear
the cries of death coming from
the now silent salad bar
i stare down at the steak
solely upon my plate and ruminate
do vegetarian humans taste
like chicken
OKC 1/23
I say a lot of things but little of it has any meaning
These daily words and conversations are all too quick and fleeting
But NEVER say the wrong thing; in this age you can’t delete them
Lines have become blurry, distorted; drawn jagged and uneven
Wrong might seem right for a minute, but then forever you’re a heathen
Someone gets offended at the damage your opinion might be dealing
Then the assailant isn’t even allowed to respond with any feelings
Not remorse or regret nor will they hear any pleading
Go away and rot and repent you guilty cretin
Don’t disagree with me, don’t try to explain, I won’t hear a thing
I’m too far ingrained into the world I maintain; to me, it is what it is
Your truths are all false, I loudly explain; credit to your perspective I will never give
Into one ear and right out the other go all the ideas by which you’ve lived
So eventually everyone passes by each other not even speaking
Now there’s too much risk. What’s the point? There’s no reason
New issues arise and historical scabs surface again; our defeat is
hidden with the values we’ve kept from ourselves, where they die lost and bleeding