Best Sensitivity Poems
I've been told I'm much too sensitive
my eyes leak tears like a used sieve
I cry over sad movies, words in a book
so go ahead and give me that 'look'
Sometimes I cry goodbye on the phone
So what? I wasn't chiseled out of stone
Tell me I get my feelings hurt too fast
I'll say I cry from memories of my past
Don't tell me I need to restrain the flow
Maybe I've suffered more than you know
I can take being knocked around by my foes
those who bitterly want to step on my toes
But words from someone I really care about
cause me to frown with my mouth in a pout
I'm a sensitive woman who tends to cry
if I tell you I don't, I've told you a lie
I would never intentionally hurt anyone
If I like you, I'll tease you, but it's in fun
Falling tears may not be in fashion
I don't think it's a crime to have passion
So please don't think I'm being a grumps
if you do I'll get down in the dumps
I've been told that I'm a tough cookie
you can make bet on that with any bookie
I'll be your friend, honest and true
but don't hurt me 'cuz it'll make blue
SENSITIVITY
They’re all ignored by us, but they have feelings too :
A black gravestone in New York, down in the world,
Recalling its halcyon days as a part of
The impressive strata at Palisades Park.
The statue in the museum of Androcles and the Lion
Daydreaming - oh, for the good old days just lying sunbaked
On the beach surrounded by
Fossil shells and shrimp at Sables d’ Olonne,
With the feet of the famous resting gently on you.
And the marble fireplace in our living room -
He can still see in his mind’s eye
The Carrara quarries in bygone days…..
Why, some of his great-grand-daddies were
Hacked out of there and taken to Rome for the Via Appia.
Oh yes, stones have feelings too.
My carved ship-of-the-line from Nelson’s navy
With her masts and spars and decks and cabins
Lies awake at night thinking of her days
In the pine forests of Norway; and next to her
This old cedar jewellery box, with intoxicating
Smells of the coast at Prince Rupert
Where she lay on the beach for weeks
Before the saw mill changed her shape and sent her to me.
The new sapele door in our hall spends hours
Wishing for his buddies in the jungles of Uganda
Where the ants would tickle you
Half to death with their constant scurrying
Up and down your branches, building this or that.
Listen closely and he’ll boast that some
of his relatives ended their days as propellers
on German zeppelins, I kid you not.
Everyone has to feel special.
And what about those unassuming steel forks in my drawer
who can still tell stories
Of their days as iron ore in Finland,
And how their brother Ernie became
A bumper on the President’s limo (supposedly).
Or my wife’s copper bracelets with their pathetic tales
Of being shipped from Cyprus
and remelted into ingots in Bimingham.
I have overheard the wings of a 747
Recollecting in the hangars at night
How their existence as bauxite in Jamaica was so idyllic,
“Wit all dat reggae and smokin’ and god knows what, man.”
They too have their memories.
And, man, de smell in dat hangar!
There is a certain sad quality
To the overwhelming sensitivity
With which offers much reality
Of course then subsequently
Causing hurt feelings with cruelty
Emitting out such animousity
Against a soul with such frailty
Will cause a certain casualty
With winners left behind spiritually
Cold as a stone internally
And blind as a bat visually
While the fragile soul will soar endlessly
Far, far away from all the negativity
When a person approached investigatively,
He chases his relations suspensively,
He finds clue and works dramatically,
Suspection always works progressively.
Confirmation of belief confirms sensitivity,
Growth brings a change to work relatively,
Hunger is seeking growth for productively,
A limit of growth confirms value qualitatively.
When population has highly density,
Unemployment works offensively,
Poverty grows to increase crime,
Disaster comes to balance creatively.
Everything is naturally fast and slow,
A person has patience for a balance flow,
Air can’t across a gravity line,
Sun has different heat rates a limit to grow.
We need to be open minded
Not being one will close our steps
our steps to sensitivity.
We are multicultural region
some eat halal some don't
but respect is here.
Different dishes need to be served
that of halal and others
Airlines need to it.
We respect faiths and beliefs
we tolerate and we accept
Still many are not sensitive.
I love you peace. Let's sail together. Layag Sug!
Aloon. VTL. 200415.9:21AM.
Teardrops that fall down
Show sad sorrows of a man
Sensitivity
Every step she takes rocks her world.
A butterfly is a dragon.
Life is a beast that must be slain.
It rips her heart apart with its cruel fangs
Leaving a red raw wound.
The pain is so immense that she can hardly stand
Every touch is a branding.
It burns a mark on her heart that cannot be erased.
She cares too much.
She would crawl through hell
She would bang on the gates of heaven
for those she loves.
But love means pain.
Love is the brand that marks her heart.
Life shreds, love burns
but existence without them would be empty.
So the pain is a gift.
Two sides of the same coin – the good and bad;
the dark and light; the yin and yang combined.
My future self, the history I’ve had.
My soul - the fulcrum of my heart and mind.
My friends believe that I’m too sensitive –
too hurt by words. But that same trait in me;
perceiving needs, entices me to give
to those same friends, who thank me graciously.
‘You’re patient to a fault’ – guilty as charged!
I wait till ancient plumbing floods my floor.
But when your sense of outrage gets enlarged,
you grasp what all that patience is here for.
Virtue and vice in bas relief I deem –
the winter’s frost becomes the summer’s stream.
sensitivity, keep
for humanity weep
~ part the clouds
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
My imagination never takes me farther
Than the confines of my own space
Where colors in hues of azure and scarlet
Wrap around the promises of truth
That inspire me to listen to the hopes
Within my breath, where I can feel
Silence screaming in lasting lavender lights
Surrounding me with the galaxy of gifts
Guiding me through the universe’s realms
The ideas, dancing through my mind
In sweetest flow of enlightenment and kindness
An air of happiness sends astronomical
Visions to soothe me and protect me from
The harrowing experience of global warming
Where my thoughts fade into the ebony
Of a cosmos so prevailing I long to touch
Only one stroke of the grace I can pierce
With rays from a sunshine that lights up
The moments with hope and faith and love
Lasting through this life that colors us all
With crimson flow from the One who gave
Up the ghost so we might know truth
In the One who fills us up spiritually
Indwelling us with an intimate whisper of wispy
Mystery, ideas that thrive in the space
Of weightless, agile delight that frees us all
From the crimes of being alive, humanoid
Never knowing the path to the moon and stars
The planets that welcome our brilliance
With immediate and powerful willingness
To give back to our hearts, through this intensity
A drifting web, dancing with joy, insight
Into the truth of a space that leaves us all
Filled with the miracle of a truth, inspiring
Feathery wisps of knowing faith will remind
All of us, this space we take up in life
Will someday bring us the passionate promise
Of a rapture where God will answer questions
With a vibrant and lively affection that lives
To pierce our hearts with compassion that is
Like a brilliant light caressing the planets
With grace, praise and worship for the One
Who created us, them and everything that is
We are blessed to share this space under heaven
With hope for the welcoming presence
Of our heavenly caress, the gesture that tells us
God is the answer to all our life’s questions
He will someday fill us with truth and pleasure
That comes from knowing His touch, His presence
The light that comes from His holy blessings!
Musings on space Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
January 11, 2021
I hide behind false identities
So pain can't find me,
sat on the sofa ravaged by dreams
reading in the light of the candle of happiness.
Wrapped my bare shoulders wet with tears,
With a blanket of warm cotton happiness.
So much happiness is in my soul!
You wait for me at the entrance of a
well-prepared future,
falling to my knees
With three roses in hand
looking at me, reading in my eyes a destiny
embracing me
with a touch of the sensitivity of my thoughts.
More lamenting from that "Mediclueless" hypochondriac...
Sensitivity, sensitivity,
I've got it in spades, head to toe.
I'm sure my sensitivity's passed down genetically
From ancestors long, long ago.
It's the epitome of exquisite agony,
And I suffer it more than my due.
Or could be I'm the progeny of poetic pedigree,
Which might explain why I'm sensitive, too.
Sensitive toenails, sensitive fingertips,
Sensitive arches of feet,
I'm convinced that my intense sensitivity's
Making my life incomplete.
Sensitive eyelids, sensitive earlobes,
Sensitive dimples and hair,
Can't stand the bright noonlight, or even the moonlight,
I just can't take me anywhere.
Sensitive elbows, sensitive wrist joints,
Sensitive ankles and knees,
That's the sensitive whole of me, in its entirety…
Won't somebody just shoot me, please?
emotive stirring
much like a wave of the storm
surrendered passion
Too sensitive will make life hard
Too ignorant will make life meaningless
Our five gifted senses
Do sense life and its essences
Because we're sensitive and we care
Sensitivity will bring us
Truth and justice
Prevention and salvation
Avoidance of errors, dangers and traps
A better life
A better ideology
A better affection and love
Lastly
A better world to live
For the next generation
Whom we love and care