Best Sensitivities Poems
there were moments, times in my life
when I couldn’t pray – all I felt was strife
there were fears, tears, leftovers from grief
so dark and lonely, I couldn’t get any relief
there were sorrows beyond my understanding
night’s shadows, desperations expanding
there were wars within my spirit, fights
forcing me to feel lost, without any rights
there were storms that made me feel lost
when I look back, I still see what it cost
there were so many feelings I couldn’t express
times when my heart’s hope was only a guess
there were thoughts that fed my insecurities
desperation that left me with life’s impurities
there were relationships, oh, I’ve loved so much
wouldn’t it be beautiful to feel a gentle touch?
there were sensitivities that taught me to doubt
when it comes to feelings I often just want out
there were rains, tempests who were so garish
despite it all though – this love would never perish
amid the battles, amongst the cries – the salty tears
there came a voice stilling my worries and fears
it was love that reminded me - He’s always near
whatever I might face, His love is completely sincere
when I don’t know what to do and the pain is deep
I look to my Savior, knowing that my soul He will keep
Categories:
sensitivities, appreciation, blessing, christian, god,
Form:
Couplet
Mindfull of a parallel sequence
we seem to function light between
thought and hurt hoping for
easy advancement up the channel steps--
pecarious invoking with someone who
knows--- and not knows inescapable from
ourselves compliant (fraud) if need not be.
Backwash of hidden intermittent terrors preclude
external sensitivities---like my aching back
heat waves of generalized dizziness and
gender--izing. The sweet bird of youth
never suffers a jet lag stupor as we enjoy
and (softly) murmur the last rungs in a
flaccid present tense loss of self faculty.
But the nevertheless picture of realitivity
lends a jargon journal future sometimes
nameless but (at least) omnidirectional
happenstance.
Categories:
sensitivities, husband, marriage, stress, wife,
Form:
Free verse
We have strained the edges of the universe,
you and I together, seeking, searching
on cosmic trails for justice love and fear,
I loved thee then, as I love thee now, forever.
If I were but to die, it would be no great loss,
except for the loss of the sight of you.
Lost in eternity forever. Ever abandoned!
Blinded forever to vision, sound and touch.
The essence of your smile, the treasure of your love
the beauty of your thought unsatisfied in me.
In a crowded room with you, I am filled with only you
absorbed in assimilating the wonder of you.
We live so briefly, chained to our earthly mortality;
our human love brittle, ductile, fragile.
This fleeting existence complicated with
bitterness, evil, anger, fear.
Mortality in the cosmic galaxy of immortality,
a grain of sand on the threshold of time.
Billions of souls struggling to live, breathe, survive,
inconceivable abducted from the dust of ancient galaxies.
Transitioning through ageless boundaries of infinity,
an infinitesimal spirit hurtling across ever expanding light years,
at meteoric velocity, captive only to gravitational sensitivities
ever vanishing, ardent in abandonment.
Lost in eternity. Ever abandoned.
Seeking! Searching!
Spell bound in the eternal spell binder.
Seeking! Searching!
Categories:
sensitivities, imaginationlove, universe,
Form:
Free verse
The Voice Within.
Somewhere in the depths of me, in a place I cannot find.
There lies the seed of longing, for that to which I’m blind.
I feel it dwells within me and every now and then,
Nudges my sensitivities and bids me, seek again.
It comes not from the body not a feeling or desire,
Nor a mood or temperament, but it consumes like fire.
It’s power, soft and subtle engulfs me as a mist,
Demanding my attention as would a maidens kiss.
After a while the attack is gone, though still I’m not at peace,
For somewhere in the depths of me that longing still exists.
For many years it has been so I’ve always had the choice,
To disregard material desires and seek that gentle voice.
Is it the voice of wisdom, am I not to understand.
Or the dreams from eons ago of prehistoric man?
Or does the yearning come to mock me, staying out of reach.
Should I surrender all and allow solitude to teach?
It bids me. “Change your ways, find a quiet and peaceful place.
Cast aside the wasteful doubt that keeps you in the race.
For time is long and life is short when they are side by side,
To live a lie will come to nought at the turning of the tide”.
But deep within I do perceive that the answer lay,
Not within the books I read or dreamings in the day.
It’s here within the eternal soul that joins us all as one,
Without whose love that boundless void would not be overcome.
Still the fire is there, the feeling of something missed.
'Tis a flame that can’t be smothered, while ever I exist.
It dwells and glows inside of me, though just a gentle flame.
And waits until my searching brings on an attack again.
And I cannot help but search for there is barely an interlude,
Between the whispers of that voice, “You’ll find me in solitude.”
My ignorance sustains me the battle won through lack of courage,
I stay here in my comfort zone and search the books for knowledge.
Days to weeks and weeks to months the months turn into years,
and still I read and procrastinate, and wrap myself in fears.
The day will come my life will end, and the other side,
The answer I’ll find and then I’ll know we should trust our guide.
______________________________
Categories:
sensitivities, courage, emotions, faith, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
….And no one spoke…
protecting all about them from
the perception of impropriety,
insensitivity, misunderstanding
…and no one looked…
shielding their eyes lest their gaze
be taken as an affront to the fashion
choices of a passerby, an insult to
the sanctimonious clerics wardrobe,
an assault on the personal space of
a nearsighted Neanderthal.
…and no one listened….
for fear of hearing anything….
that might offend their sensitivities,
sound a tone that was not in
complete compliance, allow the possibility
of conversation.
So did the monkeys take the throne,
the threesome of denial, risen
to the peak of power because they
heard no evil – spoke no evil – saw no evil
became the dupes of evil - because they
heard no good – spoke no good – saw no good
John G. Lawless
8/13/2015
Categories:
sensitivities, fear,
Form:
Free verse
Ellington, Ellington, bulldog of mine.
How dare you have the sensitivities so fine?
I’ll get to Grandma-sit you just this one time.
I’ll dress you in robes of purple and lime.
Ellington, Ellington, do your one big trick.
Waddle over here and give me a lick.
You may be the only grandchild I’ll have.
Do you need more of that ointment or salve?
Ellington, Ellington, U-tube dog star,
You have stolen our hearts. Have come so far.
Yes, come over and sit with me, my dear.
Are your teeth straight? Can we lose the headgear?
Ellington, Ellington, you make me smile.
For you I will dance an inner mile.
I am your grandma, and you are my dog.
Here’s a plate of steak, now don’t be a hog.
Ellington, Ellington, Mom and Dad are home.
Get back here this instant. Please do not roam!
Ellington, Ellington, keys in the lock.
Get back in this room, and please do not squawk!
Categories:
sensitivities, dog,
Form:
Rhyme
Shavous, True to Us
Rosh Hashanah of Fruits,
Literally, When Tree Fruit Blossoms,
Figuratively, Free Do-It Creativitus,
Earth was Created for Man's,
Improvement by Applicus,
Of Torah Chiddush Wisdoms!
1st 2,000 Years were Barren "Tohu"-ous,
Post Har Sinai, Inventous Peoples' Brainstorms,
Thus, Mortals, Sans Angels, Torah "Safeguardous",
Since Only Man Could Mind Contradictions,
Possible True Welfare, Wedding Any Multiple Versus,
Rambam's "Shalom Emes": Torah in Stark Distinction,
To Other Beliefs' Messages to Us,
To Wit, Feelings Define Right Action,
By Contrast to Absolute "True or Falsous",
Over & Over, the "Nachas", Cunning Deception,
Pulling the Wool Over the Righteous!
Shavous, also Rosh Hashanah of Learning,
Judgment on Next Year's Acquiring Torah,
Thus, Instead of Flailing, Earning,
Internalizing in that We "Soar-ah",
Satisfying Wings Earnest Yearning,
By Disowning Olam HaZeh Mesorah,
Of Narashkeit Replaced by The Discerning,
Taryag Sensitivities, the Infinite Aura,
Held Back Since Creation's Beginning,
Antidote to Amelek, A "What Ails Cure-a",
Elevating Our Commitment is like Lightning,
Flash Flaming a Gourmet Flambé Endura!
Categories:
sensitivities, blessing, earth, holiday, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
You promised me anticipation
Of a fantasy future upon introduction
Happily ever after, you offered
But don't ask questions until info conferred.
Tentative and with inward questions afire
But with soft love in my heart for what I admire
I turn aside others' attacks and doubts
Until I can find out what you're about.
Slowly, you begin to unravel as I share
Myself, my heart, my sensitivities I bare
Wrapped up in you and your story
Though the tales are scary, I'm not wary.
Over time, I see the warning signs
And often times would run and hide
Knowing what I see cannot succumb
To what you had promised our life to become.
Flipping back and forth, as fear abounds
Like I'd come face to face with bloodsucking hounds
I retreat and attack and cry to myself
Knowing without you my life will be put on a shelf.
So, I learn that my lesson to be learned
Is to face the pain that my actions have earned
Not to bring on needless sorrow or strife
Because for you it only cuts like a knife.
Learning to love another beside me
Has been the elusive mystery
That I've never been brought to
Until sensitivity showed blossoming in you.
Many months of sharing laughter
And lifting each others' spirits after
Pain is inflicted on one or another
Which our strength we've developed endures together.
Being apart now hurts sometimes
But always now I realize
That our hearts are one as one can be
Reaching through the distance happily.
For when I see you, I know
You will always continue to grow
As long as you are shown love
And remain open to gifts from above.
Never let your feet get stuck
Where negativity is all amuck
For you are meant to blossom full
A rose that the sun does upwardly pull.
Categories:
sensitivities, love, recovery from..., uplifting,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Dew slips down the gentle leaf,
Unburdened by the sunlight’s reflecting
Grace over the mountains, misty
With remembrance, beautiful like the burning
Wonder of a painting, only these colors
Can’t be created by any hand other than the One
Who created the stars, the dew, the sun…
The One who created grace for everyone
Secreted beneath a fog, misty moments
Surrounding the ridges, blue and gray like mysteries
Echoing softly, sensations remembering
Prayers and praises, preventing the melancholic
Sensitivities, flames of forever pouring over the mountains,
Healing the past with tender sighs, blessings
Erasing the doubts and bringing joy to the colors,
The soft flow of blues and purples, green that inspires
Such delicate kisses, touching the spirit with gentle,
Kindness embracing the entire memory,
Containing all the hope of a life built by His hand,
Creatively, amazingly, crazily the plan… His plan
Rain drenched words peel back layers of laughter,
Soothing the soul – stirring up the smiles,
In ways that can’t be described, intense like the passions
Felt by artists, extreme – unspeakable, powerful
Thirsts for the moments when wonders are like wildfires
Pouring over the forests, chasing away every thought
With wisdom, glowing on the edges of the heart –
Still, cool dreams and feelings, expressed by thoughts
Who believe in the music played by heaven’s sweetness,
Arousing souls to dance, free and graceful, like the wind
Who frees the spirit to believe in His everlasting peace,
The melody expressed by the purity of praise,
The promise of His grace silencing the dread, the dark
With a love that lingers, lighting the heart!
Categories:
sensitivities, appreciation, god,
Form:
Free verse
It is early on in life that Pride meets Ego. In 2nd grade in fact. Pride sits quietly admiring the gold star at the top of his drawing. Ego, sitting close by, slaps Pride on the back, lifts him into the air and tells him he deserves it. They become immediate friends. As they spend more time together, Pride loses his shape, expanding as Ego grows too. Pride likes his new form. It is large. It is powerful.
Later on Ego learns to surf. He rides the wave of forgotten insecurities, gaining momentum with every promotion and A+. Ego leaves behind a residue of “holier than thou" and superiority as he draws back, gaining more power.
Time passes. Pride forgets his glasses every time he leaves the house and instead grabs stilts. He carefully balances Success and Importance as he roams the streets blind. Pride steps on Morality and bumps into Humility but does not recognize it.
Pride and Ego meet again at the corner of Success and V.I.P. They straighten their jackets, lift their noses into the air and arm in arm they take on the city, knocking down marriages and small kids on the way. Pride and Ego walk tall. They are undefeatable. They laugh and twirl, kicking up dust from untouched sensitivities as they walk into the setting sun, watching as Humanity slowly fades away.
Categories:
sensitivities, deep, emotions, journey, philosophy,
Form:
Personification
Ink quills and vellum
Sensitivities on rags
The bard's monument
For Mr. Brian Stand's contest:
Poetry of the Noun
Categories:
sensitivities, passion
Form:
Haiku
I’m an All-Star at bottling emotions,
I run around my court dribbling emotions
onto paper. Ball hogging my sensitivities,
no one has ever been able to catch me..
I’m too damn quick.
I’ve sent every nerve that has threatened
to expose itself deep into a dark hole.
Hammered a cross at it’s base labeled
"Eyes only."
The most technical term I could muster.
Most people steer clear of technicalities.
I’m suddenly thinking about Boyle’s law.
I feel like a hooked fish,
being reeled up from deep waters
and I can picture the rushing current
of self doubt passing over me
while you bring me ashore.
I can see your reaction
to my insides protruding
out of my mouth like that
Bass I caught in Conroe.
I just hope you can stand the image.
I’ve never felt a pull so strong.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.
Categories:
sensitivities, deep, fishing, love, love
Form:
Free verse
My drapes are drawn tight,
in the morning of our afternoon,
after the fall – beyond the light
of a silent evening spent.
Dusk spits a new shine
upon the facets of my mood ring
and sunrise alarms me again.
Fish hooks evenly lure my smile
into place - when bated breaths
are baited by an anticipated gentry -
and the inverted frown I wear
stretches undetected
when performing
index-fingered handstands
for the empty allured.
Such a celebration am I.
A firecracker when we kiss.
"The sun sets in his eyes...
succulent, cabbage-red and resplendent…”
Clichéd stammering; dulled
as you turn your softly curved frame
into a prisoner's unresolved sensitivities.
Nonetheless...the innocent know -
His touch is real. Feathered, soft -
even when the entranced cripple is sobbing.
Roman candles sparkle
within a distant vagabond’s eyes.
Starch him!
Savor the moment!
He'll voluntarily burst forth -
and everything you'd want from
a strayed waif's aorta will be
auctioned back...
and eventually sold.
Like ruby-hued vegetables.
Like drawn drapes.
Like morning…
when biting your pillow case
neatly grinds waking into the laughable...
…and a forgotten sunrise
toasts the unremembered misfit
as an invisible champagne cork - pops!
Categories:
sensitivities, introspection, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
The elders speak in timeless tones to reconcile the past,
And offer truths from which we choose to fill the roles we're cast.
But though the sage will muse how well the truths can guide our way,
So few will heed and recognize the worth of what they say.
The elders speak a sacred tongue in soft and whispered tone,
Of olden days and simpler ways, of souls who now are gone.
They tell of lies and blunders made throughout the ages passed,
And beg we put their truths to pen, for all to know at last.
They come to me at varied times and occupy my thought
With facts and lore of times before, and other things they've brought.
They seek to put a record straight or make an error right,
When history's lacking in some way and needs a ray of light.
At first, I’d cringe in shock and awe, was overwhelmed and dazed.
At times, I’d feel too small to deal with issues that they raised.
"What should I do?" I asked myself, “Why should I care at all?”
But time has shown that I should trust the wisdom of their call.
I honed my skills and craftsmanship, and dedicated time.
I lent my pen and acumen, and love of word and rhyme.
I judged them not for wrongs they did, their ignorance or views,
For though they erred, the lessons learned are much to dear to lose.
It's not so much the words they say, or lives they lived and lost,
Or ways they tried to go and guide, no matter what it cost.
But what they learned from what they did and left for us to muse,
Much more than gold and treasured gems, are lessons wrought with truths.
I believe many of us charged with making our history palatable for the generations to come
get far too involved in our own sensitivities. We seem to place inordinate significance on our
judgement of our ancestors' ignorance, wrongs done to one another, and politics. As a result,
we overlook the value of the lessons learned and passed along with their legacy. It is the
cost of the wrongs done, the lives lost, and the errors made that inflates the value of the
lessons from which we have to learn... and leaving those lessons in the past is yet a greater
cost, or loss, as the case may be.
Categories:
sensitivities, education, history, on writing
Form:
Quatrain
In watching the teli reporting the evening news
I got an ache in my belly and a sudden case of the blues
So much insufferable pain that my heart couldn't stand to bear it
Too much emotion to feign as the sadness just continues to emit
War seems to be everywhere and the same with starvation
There, there and there, pretty much in every single nation
Yet we complain about our day and the horrible traffic
Take that time to pray because I haven't even mentioned the sick
And each day this horror show airs and every day is a new episode
Seems as though no one really cares as our own sensitivities tend to erode
Just a simple drink of clean water or even a slice or two of bread
This whole world seems out of order as we continue making the bed
Just being able to reach out and hand them that drink of water
Say, "I'm with you in your bout" and it only cost less than a quarter
Yes we are so quick to complain and so many do have reason
But think how the World would gain during this the giving season
Categories:
sensitivities, care, giving,
Form:
Rhyme