Her love for you is like a balloon
High up in the sky, announcing to us all
Just know that when it deflates
She won't remember the small air ball.
Pressure
only deflates
pressure hidden inside,
gradually caused my midriff
meltdown
The bluff, bump and bluster turn
to blunder asunder with hisses.
As ego deflates with a myriad of
mistakes and chaotic miss-hits,
it dismisses an over-inflated sense
of power and influence
down the off-ramp.
Will you still love me…when my lustrous black hair your fingers are ever drawn to,
turns thin and dull and gray?
When that youthful glow and my rosy cheeks wrinkle and my beauty fades?
Will you still love me…When you no longer recognize the sultry sway of my hips?
The sparkle in my eyes goes flat, along with the full pout of my lips?
Will you still love me…When the smile you love is lost, one by one…when all you see when I grin at thee, is my pink, and toothless gums?
Yes, but will you really still love me…When my lovely figure deflates like a balloon? When all my rounded curves dry up, as well as my once fertile womb?
Will you still love me…if my thoughts become lost in time? My once sharp wit grows dull, and disease invades my mind?
Will you still love me…When my youth is gone and time has taken its toll?
For I know I'll still love you,my dear…because I love your soul.
“Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.” Voltaire
In sapphire skies, so soft, serene and fair,
a balloon floats adrift in tepid air.
Nonchalant it hovers without a care.
Over and under clouds like they're not there.
It's mindful not to burn from the sun's glare.
keeping clear from branches, so not to tear.
At peace it seems, wandering unaware,
until a storm forms to cause it despair.
Gruesome gales force it to blow everywhere,
grim rain has no mercy for its welfare.
Breathless, it deflates into disrepair,
plunging, it no longer looks debonair.
The pursuit of life can become unfair,
just like the thickly sown thorns of Voltaire.
balloon of consciousness expands
after a while, the ballon deflates
both ebb and flow delights
tranquil toroidal heart
bliss energised stillness
renews its pulse within itself
animating the vast vibrant void
mirroring eternal living light of Self
Down by the only lily pond around here
the air is brisk and not particularly subtle
as it blows its windy nose.
It's not exactly a Monet painting
the setting is a little too municipal
and certainly not in winter,
but in a good light
it can be almost picturesque.
I conjure up some Debussy
replaying a favorite musical theme
in my slowly hissing mind
as it deflates and comes to rest.
In time, my thoughts
may dwell upon the pretty ladies
in their summer dresses
that sometimes visit
this unassuming spot,
but of course
not on a cold winters day.
No doubt I was born too late or early
to be a romantic
and my ass is getting chilled
on this stone bench
but damn it, with any luck
I will be back here in Spring
dewy eyed, and with
a melodic tune or song
pumping along
in my quixotic heart.
I might even bring the wife,
might even buy her a parasol.
Living in Purgatory
What do you do when you've had enough
You Can't end it all
But you no longer want to continue
Because you cant move forward
The pasts grip
is holding you back
But it wants to drag you back
to the pain and misery
But you stand strong
Eager to get going
Eager to move on
But You're stuck
Being held in purgatory
See you're Alive
but you're not Living
Stuck in stagnation
Becoming Stagnant stood still
Feet are firmly rooted to the ground
But while life still runs through you
Blood pumping through your veins
Air inflates and deflates your lungs,
Heart heartedly thumping
Strong thump, thump, thump,
Eyes blinking blink blink
In sync with one another
A statue stuck in the present
Trying to run from the past
To map out a future
But here I remain stuck
Between times tenses
Whose pull will win
The past the present
or the future
Or will I remain here
In the present
Stagnant Stuck
Living my life in purgatory.
Include the date 30/01/2022, contest name, 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 26 Poetry Contest.
Living in Purgatory
What do you do when you've had enough
You Can't end it all
But you no longer want to continue
Because you cant move forward
The pasts grip
is holding you back
But it wants to drag you back
to the pain and misery
But you stand strong
Eager to get going
Eager to move on
But You're stuck
Being held in purgatory
See you're Alive
but you're not Living
Stuck in stagnation
Becoming Stagnant stood still
Feet are firmly rooted to the ground
But while life still runs through you
Blood pumping through your veins
Air inflates and deflates your lungs,
Heart heartedly thumping
Strong thump, thump, thump,
Eyes blinking blink blink
In sync with one another
A statue stuck in the present
Trying to run from the past
To map out a future
But here I remain stuck
Between times tenses
Whose pull will win
The past the present
or the future
Or will I remain here
In the present
Stagnant Stuck
Living my life in purgatory.
No sponsor
Perfection is an illusive pastime,
an unending quest that hides delusion
in uncharted diversions on life's path;
Distractions litter obsession's by-pass,
obstacles spring up unannounced,by chance,
opportunity deflates in despair;
Again,again the siren's call beckons
innocent naivety to regard-
mediocrity nervously breaks down.
RISE
iNtEnSiTy Of BeAtS, trapping hailstorm in landlocked gorge.
nose flARes as I procure brisk air, balloon deflates at dread’s
FALL
4/14/2020
Let the Pens Flow - Antonym Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jenish Somadas
Syllables: 1/14/14/1
Walk and talk affection
In conducive tones
That fertilise attention
To concerns affecting real folks and their comfort zones
Where each critical move you make
Adds to their happiness in tough times
As for them you bake a friendship cake
To improve climes
In which they operate
Daily
As support and back up you generate
Weekly and monthly
When they feel low
As life circumstances conspire
To deal them a huge blow
That deflates their confidence tyre to retire
Their self confidence
Which sometimes oscillates
In a distorted cadence at a glance
That vacillates
Between positive and negative
Vibes
Sometimes exclusive and punitive
When scribes
Predict their imminent downfall
As life’s clock chimes
To call
For the removal of mimes
Folks can’t lip read
Without expertise
In decoding the love creed
Whose consultation fees
Folks can’t afford
Cos no price is high enough
To convert the discord encountered into a promising accord
Between the meek and the tough
Until a Reggae ambassador intervenes
To iron out pesky issues
By using Reggae means
So no affected party in a court of law the other sues.
When sleepless nights
and the absence of you
embraces me
When the call of dawn
with Gods orchestra
frustrates me
The pain inside
that does not subside
deflates me
The muted tears
that no one hears
forsakes me
You are my life
You are my world
Deaths changed me.
It as been 7 months tomorrow David I miss and love you so much xxxx
Perfection is an illusive pastime,
an unending quest that hides delusion
in uncharted diversions on life's path;
Distractions litter obsession's by-pass,
obstacles spring up unannounced,by chance,
opportunity deflates in despair;
Again,again the siren's call beckons
innocent naivety to regard-
mediocrity nervously breaks down.
The instigator relates, we cheer.
Deflates nay Sayers
The instigator retraced all fears
Detest all stares
The instigator dissects dialect
The instigator obliges his faith
What phase? The instigator
Emblazed freeze gaze.
Counsels full LAWS.
Legal eagle at the cause.
The instigator has
FAME No game.
The instigator takes flight
Ignites surprise
Do fly red eye
Nice GUY GOOD GUY
GOOD BYE
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.