Blindingly Poems | Examples

Old School

They're smiling leniently don’t be silly 
You can’t be apolitical these days
I’m smiling back I don’t trust them initially,
It doesn’t fall under a criminal offence
I’m fascinated by the incongruous lines
Just look at those familiar shapes, distorted
The early cubist paintings make them shine
Not blindingly, but just how you would want it
Ambiguous light of green and brown hues
Strict and fastidious lines, this is my politics 
No one’s deprived, humiliated or abused  
You’re in your favorite chair watching pics
It’s a spiritual job, not quite a passive leisure 
Those pictures move in time can’t stay the same
They grow on you without any measure
Until your mind will get the best of frame
You hang out in the school of old escapers
The shooters cannot see us with their drone
Tomorrows ash deploy yesterdays papers
Don’t ask of yesterdays old girls – all gone.

Behind The Bluff

Why has natural human beauty
Been deemed as not enough
Faces plastered and glued
With artificial,  unnatural stuff

False eyelashes glued on
The length of camels plus some 
Faces orange or unnaturally brown
Not touched by natures sun

Lips injected and pumped
Botox faces unable to move
Veneered teeth blindingly bright
Faces with so much too prove

It is so sad that young girls and women especially
Believe they are not beautiful or enough
Without wearing  their artificial painted masks 
Their natural beauty disguised and hidden…. behind the bluff

For a while

On a shiny day
In a shiny afternoon 
I saw you being so prudent
Your moss green t-shirt was your gradiant
Such a pretty thing 
Who knew you'd be something 

Every evening became a day dream 
When you showed up in front of me
For a while 
Just for a while 
My haunted house felt like garden
With your steps only for a certain 

Though you were so special 
I knew our ending 
Still I surmised we would be something 
So many nights I spend to think 
I could never make your mind sink 

All the thoughts 
All the regrets all the pains 
Went on vain 
Untill you showed up again 
Just to remind me you're not mine 

Just for a while
 just for a while 
I surmised we were something 
Key-chains remind me of you 
My November boy turned into a statue

Your voice still scramble my neck 
But now  I can't look back
I hope you can be happy with her 
Even though my prayers doesn't matter 
Just for a while 
For the seck of a blindingly bright morning 
I remembered your sign
I felt it would have been fine 
If you were mine

Luminessence

Alone my world is somber & unfeeling.
I exist with cold indifference hidden well with optimism,humor,a life lived fast & loose.
To view my pain as unimportant 
Turned my soul into a pitch dark bottemless pit where light and love withered and died.
Yet you endured.
Your love pierces through the void as an ember.
 I will tend and protect into a roaring fire,warming me,
Lighting my way to a blindingly bright tomorrow.

Winter Storm Brewing

a blindingly foggy day,
powdery wind blowing it's whistle
without cease.
out in the blizzard,
a man in his vehicle,
immobile in the deep snow.
he's plucked out
of the brutal mercy
of the winter storm.
seeking refuge
in a good samaritan's garage;
teeth chattering,
body trembling,
frequently shaking 
frost-bitten hands;
hurricane of anguish
churning
at the pit of his stomach.
he's sipping hot cocoa
ah, relief!


Winter Storm Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
Date written: 1/4/2023

Pain

Sitting here wishing I was dead,
Fearing the thoughts running through my head. 
The pain I feel is more than I can stand,
Falling through hell in fire I land.
Everyone I love wishes me gone,
Everything in my life is wrong.
So how do I fix what's broken beyond repair,
And why should I bother if nobody cares.
Everything hurts and I want to explode,
When it comes to pain I've hit the mother load.
With all of this I can not deal,
Nothing in life feels real.
I'm fighting a battle I can't win,
Everything I do an unforgivable sin.
I'm dying inside and can't save myself, 
And to all of of those I trusted none will help.
A bullet to the head sounds like a good ideal,
Because pain is all that I can feel.
Emotions run rampant and blindingly so,
Spinning in circles with no where to go.
Stuck in my head standing over my grave,
I was the one I couldn't save.

Pain

Sitting here wishing I was dead,
Fearing the thoughts running through my head. 
The pain I feel is more than I can stand,
Falling through hell in fire I land.
Everyone I love wishes me gone,
Everything in my life is wrong.
So how do I fix what's broken beyond repair,
And why should I bother if nobody cares.
Everything hurts and I want to explode,
When it comes to pain I've hit the mother load.
With all of this I can not deal,
Nothing in life feels real.
I'm fighting a battle I can't win,
Everything I do an unforgivable sin.
I'm dying inside and can't save myself, 
And to all of of those I trusted none will help.
A bullet to the head sounds like a good ideal,
Because pain is all that I can feel.
Emotions run rampant and blindingly so,
Spinning in circles with no where to go.
Stuck in my head standing over my grave,
I was the one I couldn't save.

Embers

Intuition flares,
prancing in ostentatious circles,
feather-tip proud.
Lugubrious grey wigs 
speckle gregariously
bedecked by flamboyant gems:
they flicker frustratingly
in stifled Regency ballrooms.

Our embers, in contrast,
are quiet. Shushed. 
They wallow in dark corners, 
hidden from prying eyes.
Predators.
Our collective eyelid
flutters closed:
too shy, subduing to privacy.
A silent tear streaks 
our collectively cold face.

Science ensnares our senses,
making ordinary life dim - 
blindingly darkened;
teetering on Boredom’s knife edge –
we long to carve it free;
infuse new scarlet veins
into its unthinking, meaty flesh,
stoking a smothered fire,
rekindling its earthy, 
endearing embers.

Perchance, I Gave To You Flowers of Glass

Perchance, I gave to you flowers of glass,
That glitter when held to the glaring sun
And sing, to spring, a song of mourning bass
For as the buds around them dance as one,
They stand tall in unerring solitude.
If these blooms, I offered to you, my sweet,
With hues and colours blindingly subdued
That should I drop, would shatter at my feet,
Would their cold, fragile buds bring you unrest
Or unforgiving edges make you bleed
Or would you, instead, hold them to your breast
And make them, as you would, mere common weed
Would you hold them and kiss them with love of me
And with that love, let them bloom merrily.

Mirage

Baking, broiling, blindingly bright, blistering sun,

Super scorching, sweltering, sizzling sand

The kabob that is my body skewered, searing

Deceptively blue skies devoid of any deliverance

No cavalry of clouds coming to convey compassion

Rising balloon-like bubbles of hot air

Causing distant objects to ripple and dance

Shimmering in the atmospheric boil

Falling to my knees, I detect in the distance

Glimmering patches of blue and green—Mirage!

A maniacal mime of molten mockery

Deriding my dreadful demise

The Truth

Pin picks of light
Seek me out
Blindingly pure they excite
Holding back a need to shout

Truth in light is well known
What would we know
The seeds are grown 
Holding the truth ahead will it go

The jigsaw is solved once the pieces are found
Placed together for all to see
 Discovering the picture well bound
Longing for more of the truth smiling proudly.

© Paul Warren Poetry

State of Mind

Image and emotion connect forcefully
Bubbling steadily from the core
Landing lightly on the mind
The expression on the faces change
As visions of the world reflect 
Into windows blindingly
As closed doors open softly
The paintings look different
As new colors are perceived

Perspective

wanton moments secure the thrill of riding
waves of multiple convergence points
reality just ain’t what it used to be...when
there was light and then there was not...
attitude breathes her fiery breath of creation
planets birth, first blush of remembrance
existence happens to each, forfeiting strong
words and emotions embedded in subtleties
framing everything occurs when stoppage is
engaged as moments coalesce past their
reduction points...strength occurs when integrity
blindingly recognizes the disparity between
two or more objects attempting to become
something other than what is perceived
force engages the tempo aligning the fanned
rays of emergence.  Fire ignites the notion
that we are not all one rather part of the whole
perspectives confuse the mind of the holy
if one drop is that...isn’t it all?

Impromptu

the sun
is deceiving so
is my breathing
i died inside
and outside
the sun
though blindingly
shining now
high noon
shares no
warmth

thirteen degrees
the days are
getting longer
along with
my shadow
the forecast
foreshadowing 
a longer winter then 
entering
a song singing
spring

The Ball

Pictures swirl blindingly, fogging the glass;
Eye aperture opens and
The crystal will tell all.

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