Best Vanity Poems | Poetry
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by ferris, sean
vanity at sixty
by onclaud, nette
by Riabi Dziri, Besma
by Trifiatis, Demetrios
The Vanity of Being Read
by Johnston, Brian
by Turner, Daniel
by Enriquez, Leon
by Abiola, Oluwasola
by Dalmia, Tripti
VANITY RIDE part one
by Boreham, Paris-Maree
View all new Vanity Poems
The Best Vanity Poems
This gown I feel nothing
Silk less feelings
The odor of intimate apparel lessens
Vanity fare from any sun
Warrior of beauty
Where have you gone?
A fortress of gloom
Not even death wants in
Black nail tips
Brownish plum lips
I close my eyes
I see them all
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens
The stars dim my view
Land becomes an enemy
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013
POTW 15 July 2018
Reverberations of the burbling stream ahead evokes
anticipations of fantasies and distorted expectations
Perfect porcelain skin ~ russet curls ~ ruby red lips
Surely even the gods would weep
at this manifested apotheosis of angelic perfections?
Trudging the lonely winding path once more
oblivious to the brambles tearing at his limbs
a small sacrifice ~ the blood he sheds matters not
Time’s swift flight may alleviate the aching heart
that suffers the pangs of an unrequited love
Etched in his mind this image that has fragmented
the filigree web of his repetitious dreams
Where his nightmarish inflictions are wrought
of an agonising sweat soaking torment
in the gloom of the nights that liberate him not
Proclamations of love feverishly spilling
On parchment in the wakening dawn
Bled out in words to where beckoning waters flow
Euphonious notes that the winds have borne
Streaming from the very core of his being
Spinning senses abandoning their out of control defences
Yet nothing … Nothing ... in his wretchedness can bridge
the gap to the void in his desolate soul
Deprived by a selfish god of this splendor
for him to gaze on by day ~ yet in dismal nights Heaven denies
Day after day to this enigma he brings
serenades that would whip fallen leaves into a frenzy
and calm raging torrents into lapping stillness
Mindless he to the lone song bird that flutes soulfully
Or the reiterated sounds of the whispering Echo
He weeps and grins like a madman at
the sudden outburst of mirth on those ruby lips
Fingers dip in to caress once again
Collapsing the perfection into
a thousand shimmering, mocking ripples.
Must he drown in his very own tears?
Surrender to his darkest dreams?
A slave to an intoxication of his own making
On the morrow perchance the gods may be kinder
A whisper carried on a teasing wind floats to his ears
Above throughout the high mountains,
He can hear Echo whispering softly
Her mellifluous dirge of death.
Yet he cares not ~ His mind centres
on the god that so oft appears in the stream.
Lust eats at his heart as he feels the urge
to plunge down into the depths of the viridian stream,
To copulate in bliss with his newly found love.
Yet something holds him back.
Curse Nemesis for depriving him from his ambrosial love.
Weak in dreamy languor, he falls faint,
And dies ………Unable to kiss his shadow in the stream.
In Greek mythology, Narcissus was a hunter from Thespiae in Boeotia, known for his beauty. The son of the river god Cephissus and nymph Liriope, he was so self-opinionated, disdaining those who loved him. Nemesis disliked his behaviour and lured Narcissus to a pool where he saw an image of beauty reflected in the water. He instantly fell in love with it not realising it was the reflection of himself. Unable to tangibly connect with this epitome of beauty, Narcissus lost his will to live. He stared at his reflection by day and was distraught at nightfall when he could not see it.
Echo, the woodland nymph, with her ceaseless chattering, perhaps in an effort to conceal, angered the goddess queen Terra when she demanded to know the whereabouts of her husband Zeus who was cavorting with the woodland nymphs at the time. Terra punished her with a curse that only allowed her to speak the last words she heard. Perchance, while haplessly wandering in the woods, Echo saw and secretly fell desperately in love with Narcissus who sadly wasn’t aware of her, in spite of Echo cleverly repeating his last words in order to attract his attention.
POTW 15 July 2018
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT!
Emotional poster boards of doubt
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced
Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch
Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms
Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!
Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Devils deadly dime
The sign said no grown-up at the playground.
Tripping on a penny, like a mime!
My hand is in my pocket with the dime I found.
Its all mine, I asked for the devils hand that time.
Echoes in my head, bounded by a screaming sound.
Paying for a forgotten crime,
on what comes around goes around.
A prison with greed that carries an evil musical chime.
Jumping off the merry-go-round!
Encouraged by the devil,
the pleasure of his deadly nursery rhyme.
Now the world is measured by my blood level.
The devils delight feasted on my youth before I hit my prime.
Bashing my mind, with thoughts implanted by evil.
Entering the day with no beauty to my sublime.
Begging him to remove this anvil!
He laughed while he cursed me with a favor for a favor.
A fallout so violently in this world not civil.
One can only lust on the taste that only he can savor.
Hanging out by the swings wounding me with prey,
on two victims to his delicious flavor.
I climb my way to teach a lesson in hate not love.
Two siblings who always scream for each other.
Giggling as I offered each a push and a shove.
Stopping they give each other a big hug.
Defeating and proving love is a stronger disease
The devil wicked eyes looking at me like a bug.
Clawing at my inner guts with remorse that he will win this war.
Until another day one skips the penny,
and begs a poor fool like the devil for his dime.
Tossing heads for his tail when times hits rock bottom.
I will stray away from his deadly reaction time.
He will not own my soul so freak'em,
and his greedy deadly beg of a dime.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
What things does one possess
at journey's end?
What bits and bobs? What trivial tripe?
Please, do tell, what is the hype?
For should I recall anything at all
of trinkets obtained in memory's shawl,
it would be the warmth of a companion's smile;
his hand in mine, while on this earth for a while.
The tickle of a tide brushing against tiny toes,
while the whisper in the wind, tells me all she knows.
Should I gaze at gems, pearls, rubies, emeralds--
Forsake the wisdom of the solid for the beauty of the temporal?
Should I throw caution to the wind, like seeds for the birds,
or stick to what I know - the solemnity of the written word.
Of trinkets obtained in memory's shawl,
be there anything at all worthy of my recall?
Happiness, Peace, Love and Joy -
these remained to be my one and only lot.
These intangible things more valuable by far
than gold and silver ingots.
At journey's end I stopped to ponder,
in the cloudless starlit night,
about the heavens and her wonder;
I was struck by sudden insight:
the lightness of the moon
suspended in air,
and the weight of a mere thought
that put it there.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2015
~twice the beauty~
in the sea of love
reflection of the night
a wave moves
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015
Listen to poem:
"bag of bones"
I wonder if when you look at me
You can't bring yourself to like the vanity
Lost somewhere inside -
I wonder if beauty lives..... in you???
Poor old lady;
-perhaps you should not pass judgment
For one day
I might be
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
There lives a silent evil deep within
Which once was locked inside Pandora's box
Now said to be the "father of all sin"
And one's denial is it's paradox
Abiding in us all, though well disguised
Once caused an angel's fall from God's sweet grace
When there are times it goes unrecognized
A mirror will reveal it's hiding place
Yet even in admitting it exists
We yearn to feel that superficial glow
For deeds of man which crumble in time's mist
Then feed the fire that burns self-serving souls
It often hides as false humility
But ash and dust know not of vanity
by Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2018
I'm a grit teeth beginner breaking out the cage,
growing stronger and fitter with wit coming of age,
squeezing letters out of lemons got me in a rage,
but this bitter will get better and steal the stage.
I'm out to lay a new way suitable to a renegade,
angrily squashing this yellow fruit into lemonade,
using the skin to pave a golden route in the trade,
writes rooted in the times of this transitional upgrade.
No scourge can submerge the courage I preserve
under the surface, that purrs with an urge
to hand carve words with power and purpose,
this marvellous occurrence repeatedly emerges
and surges undoubtedly delivering superb verses.
Attempts to pull curtains on my spirit,
only teach knowledge that I inherit,
I react and catch before impact to my merit
and you can't collapse the soul of this poet.
Everyone falls but my core's impenetrable,
and my mental resilience is unbreakable,
they can't remove something unshakeable,
trying is a mistake that'll make you miserable.
I've learnt to benefit from attempted attacks,
aimed to prevent the way that I vent and act,
catching the weaponry and adding to my stack,
I've a determination that I'll never let crack.
I'll elevate as I stimulate with flow,
and levitate the audience to show,
I'm able to continuously demonstrate
that my work is something to celebrate,
even though my opinion will make them hate.
Coming back is what I do,
don't make me come back for you!
Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018
I've found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right in the middle of everything
Was what I imagined being a wishing well
I at once tossed a quarter into the sea
Facing down, puzzled as can be
I peeked in to ensure where it fell
I tipped over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was sitting there waiting for me
The reflection was before this day and age
I thought, what could this be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010
July 29, 1890
Colored daubs and swatches
crave artist’s practiced hand.
Justice, nearly blind, yet watches—
unwrought art upon a stand.
Regard the brushes in a row—
the palettes and the sponges.
Genius maimed by status quo,
vain a hope that fate expunges.
Guttered myriad lifelong dreams—
in desperate ruination.
Fading now the piteous screams
of self-inflicted termination.
Abruptly then adoring praise—
contrived their sudden expertise.
Rude cabal who would appraise—
byzantine their guileful sleaze.
Each masterpiece a servant
of craven yearn and greed.
Bang the gavel, swift and fervent;
sate purveyors’ inveterate need.
Justice now is truly blind;
vanished those She would impute.
His final piece is left unsigned;
and undisclosed, for now She’s mute.
4th Place: I Love Rock and Roll
Inspired by Don McLean's song, Starry Starry Night
Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2014
The riveting and winding complexity of this dated device moans in the grinds of it's exhausted exterior.
Delicate though precise it punctures through the malice of the fools logic.
Grasping onto a vision so modestly tamed.
permitting the inner reflection of it's grimy vanity and cannily projecting the alter ego for the bespoke acceptance of it's dreary fantasy.
They will never understand, or ever know...the burden of the wise to the limits of stupidity.
The jester of maximum proportion, the seller of false attire.
The woven ingredients come forth to the shiny purity of it's ending destination.
The folly of all ages, that great pretender of truth.
And gone to days past the awakening of this shattered belief and fading out the moment of blissful reign.
Copyright © Paul K K | Year Posted 2016
Devouring one's hopes and dreams
© Demetrios Trifiatis
02 July 2018
* This poem was honored as a POTD. I would like to thank you my friends
for your appreciation and your support! I also thank the official of PS for the
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2018
wisdom in the dark
feigned resplendence floundering
July 3rd, 2018
Inspired by Demetrios Trifiatis Haiku "VANITY".
Copyright © Besma Riabi Dziri | Year Posted 2018
PENNED ON AUGUST 14, 2014!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
I can see
a beautiful soul
lies within me.
who I really am.
For Giorgio Veneto's contest - "Laconic Verse"
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013
a memorial in time
bring it down
bring it down
a testament to bravery
bring it down
bring it down
a witness to chivalry
bring it down
bring it down
a monumental beauty
bring it down
bring it down
a statue turned gargoyle
bring it down
bring it down
I'll bring it down
this monument of words
this epic work of art
with hammer and chisel
with my bare hands
with my fingers torn
with my heart worn
I'll bring it down
I'll bring it down
Down to the ground
This abhorrent thing
no longer adorned
this thing of shame
remnant of the game
I'll bring it down
I'll pulverize stone
Only dust will remain
of what I disdain
washed away in the rain
of the tears
That you brought down....
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
It seems I always
against the current.
of conflicting contradictions
and unsweetened scripts
at odds with others
in deeds and words
a emotional dissonance
played out over a lifetime.
banged and buffered hard
against the onflow;
prevailing opposites rush
to assail my efforts
intent on wearing me down
scraping, scarring, challenging
calling me out with
harsh ridicule and doubt
why must I cause stirred sediments
to muddy, blind and bewilder me
blurring reason so that
what is seen as truth
often becomes mixed
with drama and ambivalence?
how righteous is the direction
of this timeless stream?
shall I swim with it or against it?
go one way or the other;
does it really matter?
I cannot give up
I cannot relent...
this is who I am
a person searching
for kindred spirits
to swim backward
against the current.
to find some direction,
some marker that guides
this hurrier to a another plane
of purposeful existence.
I think most people at some time are contrarian.
Some from the start; others in their teens.
Some all through their life.
I can't remember being otherwise.
In retrospect, am I really that different
or do I use it an excuse
to be noticed? Perhaps both.
Copyright © Allan Koven | Year Posted 2013
has become so transparent
we need a special day
to be reminded of it.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
Your tiny hands hold a little flower
Delicately, you start weaving a story about peace
In your gentleness, you understand how happiness works
It is the sanctuary of warm softness in the heart
Free of all clouds and stormy weather
You walk on soft white sand
Eagerly, you pull yourself up after each fall
In your curiosity, you discover what makes you happy
It is the freedom of making your own choices
Unconstrained by necessity or fate
You embrace everyone without judging
Innocently, you follow the impulse of your instinct
In your imagination, you build the foundation of harmony
It is the pillar of mutual acceptance
Co-existing with different beliefs
Now, a grown young man
Your hands are no longer soft and delicate
In your journey, you learn how betrayal works
Painfully, you slip and fall each time
It is the feeling of deep hurt in the heart
That pushes you forward
Now, a capable man
You walk on a long winding path
In your trial and error, you finally grasp the true nature of humans
Disappointedly, you sigh at the people who create war
And those who instill hatred in today's youth
It is the sense of rightness that moves you
Now, a man of experience
You let your thoughts flow upon paper
Dipped in the ink of blood, words continue to flourish
Seamlessly, you integrate your enchanting imagery
With the blessings of God's living water
You paint a ladder of inspirations reaching the horizons
Seeds of the new generation
They are dreaming of a better future
Far from the opening chambers of blind heartaches
Those who drowned in the darkness of their moonshine spirits
Burning sinners and hypocrites
Drunken smartass slurring in a poetic oxymoron slang
Your eyes grin when you take away lives
It is the cold heartless stare that you exude
Until your victims' breaths leave their bodies
The demons in you rejoice in your attachment to them
Your souls are no longer your own
The windows of your souls are sealed off
You have fenced yourself in to keep out the goodness
Spitting in Love's face, you bow to your Demon God
It is the hatred that you cling onto
When you weave long threads of recorded bad memories
It approaches with a full force
Floors tremble and vibrate
When the houses break, it will be swift and inevitable
It is an unstoppable vortex of good and evil
A battle of hurling vile obscenities
You will curse everything holy swearing lies
Sweet talking arrogance with no bounds
Under a thousand points of light
So blind becomes the beggars vision of a predator
Rattling through the cages of time
Death holds a beating pulse
Harsher than physical wounds exposed
Pain burns the poker scorching hot inside empty skulls
They curl their tongues in mockery of life
Cultivating a culture of takers and pranksters
Givers are now doomed and deemed foolish
Where do we go from here?
Stuck in past mindsets, the old must find a way
To break the mold and make peace
The young and new blood should never give up
On peaceful tolerance and forgiving love
Let bygones be bygones, start now with peace
a co write by liam mc daid and Angeline Lim
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017
I am Reality’s angel
resting on the broad shoulders of discovery
the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target
ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you
there is a creator of all things
He is just and patient
many still have fallen into the masses of shadow
wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy
I have seen grown men fall like rose petals
and weaklings rise into unjust leaders
forever the follower of furtive evil
dominating only to remain inferior
the most important answers lie in the unseen regions
where no sense can fully give assurance
the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn
grows weary because of the distance it must take
and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates
it is knowing we are seeking something far
that could very possibly not exist,
that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense
it is knowing all we really think we know
and yes—even a lie
all that has been written thus far rests under my wings
under the warmth in which you refuse to feel
can you believe in me—
though I am completely unseen?
how much more difficult would it be to see
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
I was waiting by my mailbox
To hear news from the Soup
I know they like to keep me
Somewhere, in the loop
I couldn’t wait to see, ME !
Somewhere at the top
Of The Hundred best read poems
That reader's thought were Hot
While I nestled in my chair
Took my subtle writers pose
With my thumb under my chin
And my finger, side my nose
I started to peruse
The list presented clear
While looking for My Name
I found it wasn’t there
Perhaps an over site
Could sure explain, a lot
They failed to read, the comments
And all the praise, I got
But then, it came to me
Those guys are really smart
My poems are so good
Their’re simply off the charts
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014
they say everything here is
somewhere in the middle of the road
where names get bleached and keys forget about their doors
and there is something we should dig our coated nails into;
the layers of regret and anger
that our mothers tell us to peel off
but the sun bakes us too hard and rancid
laying down on styrofoam mattresses
where someone pokes their thumbs through the plastic
watching nothing but empty bubbles reflecting
and life is faded, glossy pages of a magazine
with a worn bar stool with cigarette burns thrown in between
and we all carry this restless, tormented beauty
that gets up and leaves
as soon as they say
it will settle down
© Gry W Christensen
Copyright © Gry Christensen | Year Posted 2014
Everything at the top I find is fabricated nonsense
truth is security lies as they are blind rats
to home truths and openly sources spill the beans
A fish out of water plops
Spiraling circles around what they say within government
gasping full of rubbish reeks in order to control media
Everyone right to the top brass with twisted agendas
is brainwashing people in utter garbage driven by their thirty pieces
dressed in their cheap perfumed words stink to the high heavens
When they come to the gates of two truths all seeing
then they will see the deceiver kneel
before the master creator of us all
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2016
She saw her body, but could not see her soul
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2017