love is an overused and time worn concept
marriage is banal
yet nothing about your love is threadbare
you are my evermore
you wear me thin but even the thinnest strings of my fate spell out your name
there is no sphere where waking up on your sore bicep takes a backseat in my thoughts
you are not a part of my anatomy; you are it.
my heart my soul my mind
you own rent free space
you eclipse my ambition
nothing holds a candle to the love i’ve cultivated for you over these years
you are a paradigm of the moment where i realise what your love does to me
you make me a wreck and yet all it takes to fix me is you
you are the poison and you are the antidote
you are the totality of my thesis; you are the only thing i understand.
Categories:
bicep, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form: Free verse
The Mother Sun no longer embraced me
No more adrenaline rush that motivates me to get up
Breakfast seems bland, faded colors of rotten apple
Unfurled window curtains is the angle that I see
Unheard thoughts of forks lying in the kitchen table
Deafening silence devours me, I am alone with this empty cup
Nostrils reminded me of reek of unlit cigarettes
Counting those days to reminisce about your existence
Comical drama is no longer my daily routine
Friction of emotions ignited thy mere silhouettes
Longing for your gentle touch before when I was your queen
Hear me universe, burn the wick of the candle to end this existence
Silhouettes at the wall is the angle of what I see
Longing for your gentle touch as you held me at your bicep
Unseen towering shadows into my doorstep
Series of dread and pain that hinders me to get up
Void of darkness devours me entirely,
I lost at the battlefield so I ended up not fighting
I hope you're well in that delicate paradise
Only the image of you, picturing this unbrewed coffee
Categories:
bicep, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Free verse
“You can’t hide behind your finger..”
– Greek Proverb
You can’t hide behind your finger…
Nor behind your toe,
Your painted nails blazes trails
Everywhere you go.
Lashes, you can’t hide behind
For radars everywhere,
You can’t hide all that spied
Underneath your hair.
As eyeballs are upon you
Watching every step...
You can’t hide behind your pecs
Nor even your bicep.
Now, understand you can’t conceal
All you have become,
You can’t hide behind your finger...
Nor behind your thumb!
Categories:
bicep, body, word play,
Form: Rhyme
A mongoose lives in my upper nostril, with her man.
They make as much noise up there as they possibly can.
Honking and laughing themselves into a frenzy daily.
Making so much noise, Linda Sue and her man named Bailey.
They would be my most annoying parasites except,
There is a mini-kangaroo hopping around in my bicep.
She is always jumping and thumping, keeping me off key.
Making me irritated, and a tiny bit angry.
Then there are the baboons in my stomach, Mack, Moe and Mim.
They are non-stop wrestlers, so here I am wide awake at three a.m.
Typing a poem when I would much rather be sleeping.
Oh, good grief! Now the pig in my retina is doing some leaping.
It must be nice to be normal and not be aware of these parasites.
I will bet you just go to bed soundly after you turn out the light.
Not me, no way, not at all. I am sorry, but for me there is a little uh-oh.
To me, I can barely go to sleep, for there is always a show.
Categories:
bicep, 3rd grade, 4th grade,
Form: Light Verse
Today I made the cake,
cradling the bowl.
Arm aching,
pulling at the fruit.
Her recipe in front, spidery and sherry stained.
And she was here.
I could feel her, smell her Christmas fragrance and
as my bicep burned she held the spoon and through it went
and she was gone.
Categories:
bicep, best friend, christmas, memory,
Form: Prose Poetry
Tattoos were anathema in ‘52
on any man who got one
after an all-night drunk
or to impress a girlfriend.
But not a word was spoken to
a man who made it home
tattooed after serving
with his company in Korea.
Any man who made it back
was welcomed whether
he had Popeye on his bicep
or his girlfriend's name
even if the girlfriend married
someone she had met while he
was digging foxholes in Korea.
Donal Mahoney
Categories:
bicep, war,
Form: Blank verse
- I firmly press the side of my head against the inside of my left bicep. Leaving my arm at an awkward angle and I looking a bit foolishly. When I release, the imprint of my ear remains etched on the surface. Simple things that a man learns as a child; carried with him into adulthood. Golden memories left in the passed as we stay present in today. Each step that leads up to where you are right now, is evident on the stairs. Memories documented to ensure that we will not forget. Scrap books and picture albums are kept in the keep sake box. Tucked away for safe keeping in the back of the mind. Achievements are commemorated. Only to catch fire and vanish into the memory foam that evaporates.
IZ
2015
Categories:
bicep, analogy, change, character, childhood,
Form: Prose Poetry
A few bars I just dropped in the booth not to long ago.
Check them out.
Tom & Jerry The Kidd chase money/ angry birds make my bills look funny/ shooting banks like Stephen curry/ math equations I handle in a hurry/ for the paper I go crash dummy/ I bet a silver spoon taste yummy/ wasting coins like a tsunami/ history of Clyde and Bonnie/ OK/ pull up in a nigga set/ but before I rhyme on, gotta get my lick on/ I flex like a bicep in a arm/ you betta have luck when you wear yo charm/ hold up/ LB quit brainstorming yo words, verbs, nouns, and adverbs provokes me to take action like a verb/ ain't speaking money then it ain't word/ OK/ them trappers call me BooLansky/ Gun shine state representer/ old bills wearing suspenders/ so how I can fall out of rhythm/ I'm tripping off this Seagram/ but how I can I trip when high/ Abraham my main Guy/ prices on heads that killers buy/ I learned three ways to use buy/ uh/ LB NASCAR paper which sea, as long as my lids see, and I ain't talking about no lids card, paper connects on da iPod, Put God first believe in God LB
- Loverboi
Categories:
bicep,
Form: ABC
Chocolate stains across a clean shirt
Sticky stains smeared on pale arms
Low thoughts and dry tears fit right into this gray hazy sky.
Itching and stinging on legs and arms that no cream has the formula to relieve.
Comforter has a roughness that has no explanation.
Thoughts irregular and edgy looking for a press, deep sigh.
Why oh why have these illusions come to haunt me again.
Grumbling and aching are a constant companion.
Unorderly placements of things and verse with no comply.
Deep sigh, again? Not again! Let it go, keep moving
Forward ho.....mush you jello! Bicep reach and contract.
Limber junctions lubricate and roll....Worm not today, Blow fly!
Categories:
bicep, angst, health, life, loss,
Form: Rhyme
I take firm grasp of the handle
My goal reflected in the steel of the knife,
I put the knife to its green face
Its' checkered skin;
I flex my bicep, grimace with thirst
I remember the day’s troubles,
The day’s triumphs, And I cut
The blade breaks the rough surface
Shatters the smooth oval,
And sinks deep into the soft redness beneath
Juice flows over my hands, and I forget my thoughts,
I reach in and take firm grasp of its heart
I wrench it out with red dripping fingers
Slobbering it into my mouth
The sweetness of the watermelon sends my heart racing with joy
And I reminisce that I had forgotten the plate.
P.S, for those who may not know, the sweetest part of the watermelon is the heart (hence
reaching for the heart)
© Samir Georges
2010
Categories:
bicep, food, happinessheart, heart,
Form: Free verse
I go to the gym twice a week in a bid to lose my tum,
try and get some muscles and perhaps slim down my bum
all are a big incentive, though another one for me
are the complex mix of people that at the gym you see
The twenty something bicep boy, a proper alpha male
who couldn't be more monkey like, if he had a tail
the pretty, perfect model, who glows but never sweats
quick to say she's healthy but at mealtimes just forgets
the group of golden oldies who jog along in pairs
trying to outrun their peers who're wheeled around in chairs
the larger than life contenders who'd rather really snack
they sweat and blow and get so red they risk a heart attack
amid all these characters there's little normal me
an almost thirty Mum of two, what you get is what you see
Many types of people all with a common goal
be happy, fit and healthy, improvements body and soul
and so I keep my appointment as fitness I do seek
I get so much entertainment here It lasts me for a week!!!
Categories:
bicep, sports, people, people, mum,
Form: I do not know?