Best Vanity Poems | Poetry

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New Vanity Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Vanity poems are below this new poems list.

vanity by ferris, sean
vanity at sixty by onclaud, nette
On Vanity by Riabi Dziri, Besma
VANITY by Trifiatis, Demetrios
The Vanity of Being Read by Johnston, Brian
Vanity by Turner, Daniel
VANITY by Enriquez, Leon
VANITY by Abiola, Oluwasola
VANITY by Dalmia, Tripti
VANITY RIDE part one by Boreham, Paris-Maree

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The Best Vanity Poems

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Sheol

Dark Knight-tress 

Underneath 
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
The Shadows
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens 
The stars dim my view
Irremovable makeup
Land becomes an enemy
I become
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim

~S~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013


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Narcissus meets his Nemesis - A Collab with Victor Buhagiar

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.
SYNOPSIS 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


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WALLPAPER

WALLPAPER

---------------------
Paper Thin
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.

by;PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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Devils Deadly Dime

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.


by;pd


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010


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Tangible

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


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DRUNKEN MOON

~twice the beauty~


in the sea of love 
reflection of the night 
a wave moves


~SKAT~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015


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Old Lady

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
Just 
Like 
You!

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016


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Vanity

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


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Never Surrender

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


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FORGOTTEN TREASURE

FORGOTTEN TREASURE

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

             SKAT


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010


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Vincent

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.

Time Passes

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


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Clouded Mirror

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


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VANITY








Carnivorous beast

Devouring one's hopes and dreams

Wolfish vanity!






© 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
honor!   


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2018


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On Vanity

wisdom in the dark
feigned resplendence floundering
vanity flattered!
 
July 3rd, 2018


Inspired by Demetrios Trifiatis Haiku "VANITY".


Copyright © Besma Riabi Dziri | Year Posted 2018


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having sex - footle

buck wild
rodeo style
_______________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 14, 2014!


Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014


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Beauty Within

    I can see
a beautiful soul
 lies within me.
    Therefore,
    no mirror
   can reflect
who I really am.







 
For Giorgio Veneto's contest - "Laconic Verse"



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013


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Bring it Down

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
grotesquely formed
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....

Eileen Manassian





Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


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SWIMMING UPSTREAM

SWIMMING UPSTREAM

It seems I always 
swim upstream 
against the current.
re-creating struggles 
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 
with me
against the current.
to find some direction,
some marker that guides
this hurrier to a another plane
of purposeful existence.

SYNOPSIS 

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. 


CAK 10-13-12013


Copyright © Allan Koven | Year Posted 2013


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The Holiday Season

Our humanity
has become so transparent
we need a special day
to be reminded of it.


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016


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Cloud Weavers

Little child
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
 
Little feet
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
 
Little heart
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
 
Evil minds
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
 
Unfilled vessels
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
 
Unforgiving gale
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
 
Demon possessed
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


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Reality's Angel

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 is meaningless 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 Him?


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013


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The List

The List

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 

                                           By JTCurtis  



Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014


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Exit 7b

1.
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 

2.
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

3.
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


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An eye opener

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


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House of Mirrors

She saw her body, but could not see her soul


Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2017