Dry Up Poems

Perfume Bottles

A perfume bottle’s shape and size may dictate what you buy. 
So pretty and so colourful all pleasing to our eye.
But then again it will depend on contents, and its smell.
A little sniff that we all take, is often how we tell.

Some perfumes that we really like, are ones we use each day.
A quirt upon our neck and wrist, is mostly where we spray.
Ensuring then we do replace the perfume bottle lid.
So, the perfume does not dry up, a crime we must forbid.

Our perfume bottles have their place, look pretty in a row.
So lovely that we feel we must, put them all on show.
But when the perfume does run out, the bottles rarely keep.
Instead, we buy another one, on special when it’s cheap!

Most perfumes cost a fortune, cannot believe their price.
Upon the shelf they beckon us, in bottles looking nice.
Designer brands, like Cartier, Lancome, Dior, Chanel
Attractive to our senses, they all have a lovely smell.

So yes, I do like perfume, many bottles I do own.
A perfume tragic I’ll remain; have even tried Cologne.
I feel complete, with a squirt, a different one each day.
Then replace the lid quite firmly, so I don't lose my spray.

Forgotten childhood

Time to pack away all my toys
They no longer bring me joy

I'm no longer a joyful boy
I'm just a miserable man

Trying to live
To see better days

But I still wish
I was a kid again

Didn't keep a single friend
From my so called childhood

I did keep one thing
I kept my childhood misery

Grew up too fast
Wishing I could go back

To open up my toy chest
Full of joy and fun

Now that toy chest
Is full of fear and lies

I've told myself
Over the years

That the fighting will stop
The ocean of tears will

Dry up in a lifelong drought
As for the pain it will

Turn into success
It will be taken advantage of

In the best way possible
Then maybe I will

Live a better life by
Sharing my story of

My nonexistent childhood
Full of pain and fear

History doesn't matter if its aesthetic

Hot summers dry up the land 
The dirt crumbles under the heaviness of disrespect
Fresh flowers adorn the land 
Covering the uneven burial grounds 
Overshadowed by privilege 

What better way to claim superiority 
By soiling the plantation they stand on
Ignorance crowds the air 
Cast aside by vows of love 
Tainting history with a wedding
The stories of black labour whitewashed into a picture of a bride in white
Covering the truths in a veil of fragility
Ironic how they use the innocence of a white wedding 
To ink over history 

A picture is worth a thousand words
A simple picture of a now conjoined family
Haunted by secrets of ownership
How the brides grandmother was once a girl
Who stood on this same plantation
Watching her parents become slave owners 
A simple picture
Once innocent becomes a sinister backstory
A history haunted by the darkness of whiteness

Flower petals spread across the venue of black bones
Not to pay respect to those buried
But to honour love consummated on the grounds of black history 
Smiling in pictures with a tainted memory 
Plastered in magazines profiting off of slavery 
But hey at least they gained popularity

Love, Lubricant Of The Soul, Emollient Of The Heart

Love is the lubricant of the soul and the emollient of the heart, both  
Unguent and viscous, it glides like butter in the summer heat 
Banish it from your life and suddenly everything will dry up, like a    
Rose wilting by winter's call.  Lubricate love with a sense of purpose    
Invite joy to sit at your table and oil your dreams with hope.    
Care for your inner self and nurture your mind and body....
A lubricant made of peace and forgiveness can reduce friction  
Nature has a way of polishing and moisturizing the mind and    
Truth be told, gratitude can be the greatest lubricant of them all.

Redemption

Inspired to Write ??? right?

I recently thought back to a time in my life I was so vulnerable. 
Flashbacks of a fist to my HEAD ????
I don’t wanna be dead. ??
This love I found I don’t wanna lose, please Lord help me choose.
Help me choose to love myself,
Help me choose to do things I love ?? 
Help me be brave when there’s no other way to be.
With my life partner next to me
Help me find ME ??
The world moves so fast, I look over my shoulder and yes, my babies are getting older.
Dry up my tears Lord.
Take away my fears Lord. 

Years later I STILL need your strength Lord. 
All the things I miss I feel I’ve lost.
But you clear the path ahead ....??
When the time is right, my soul please take, show me with your spirit use me Lord for your will. 
Let my story be a testimony.
I no longer wish to be lonely.
Please Lord walk with me on this journey.. 
-TR

My inner voice

A voiceless whisper always speaks to me,
At times too faint for thought to comprehend,
Yet it speaks—sometimes even loud and clear—
To warn of danger or to guide to blessings.

Most times, its voice grows clearer when ignored,
But when I heed its prompt, it comes true,
It then fades~
like a whisper lost in the wind,
and like a dream slipped from grasp.

But whenever I long for its guiding light,
That's when its feet grow cold and heavy—
like a feather on a fish...
an imaginary tail a snail would love to wag.

But from where comes this inner voice?
That, like true prophets, dares to predict.
Is it God speaking in me—or something else?

If wishes were horses, I’d rather choose this inner voice—
For my outer voice makes only noise,
While this my inner voice flows like a river of truth,
of wisdom and understanding—
that sometimes may dry up,
but it never vanishes...
and it beams with a cadence that illumines my future.

Please Wash Your Hands

Hands like dirt
Cracking in sunlight
where weeping willows grow and glow
burning in the snow
freeze-dried
tied below and pulled into a flash fire
your art dies you write the words
"right before they kissed"
with the "i"s undotted
time unalloted 
the crime has been spotted
your hands are covered in dirt
wash them in the fire
wash them dry
watch them die
with all your worst ideas
with your eyes
wash them dry
they're not worth your tears

watch them die
with your eyes
wash them dry
they're not worth my tears

watch them die
with all your worst ideas
watch them
but don't wash them
just throw them in the fire
watch them dry up

close your nose
and drown it in dirt
until the smoke can't fly
watch the smoke
eat it up and leave the dirt behind

wash them in the fire
wash them dry
watch them die
with all your worst ideas
with your eyes
wash them die
they're not worth your tears

close your eyes
so you can't see their cries
close your nose so your can't smell their lies

close your ears 
so you won't hear them disappear

And The Point Is!

How do you do, Point of Exclamation?! 
We love your disposition of hooray, 
We bask in your uplifting sensation, 
Without you words would dry up in dismay. 

“Oh thank you, I’m fantastic! Awesome! Great! 
I thrive indeed on fulsome words of praise,
My final punch is not to punctuate - 
My one and only goal is to amaze!”

You sure run on a brighter sunny side, 
One mark and we jolt to your vivid vibe! 
What would ameliorate your cheerful pride, 
And turn your tone into a jesting jibe? 

“Oh Boy! I fear my joyful cover blown! 
Oh well! Though I appreciate the wit, 
I hate when used for monotonous tone 
With an assumption that I can fix it.”

You stand alone but carry so much weight, 
How do you strut your stature straight and proud? 

“By adding zeal and zest to what you state, 
I smile, chuckle, grin and laugh out loud!”

Your punctual purpose clearly beats the rest 
Where from you generate your spunky spark? 

“Oops! My attention span isn’t the best!
Too many queries, ask a question mark!”

Eso eso eso he Baishakh

Summer churn, welcome home, come along, come, please come
along , (this morn)
With your unwholesome breath blown away a far the fragile, and
ailing, (a struggling croon )
Age old garbage may have mercy to egress
Old memory, forgotten lyric history,oblivious
Tearful dew sparkling now, may dry up in ease
Wiping out a shame, curing a mayhem , shiver
Burn saliently to season the pure suntanned believer
O muse and the cues! Dry up your soggy feel
Come and play around your flute of the ending zeal
To tear the old labyrinth of mystic away, (weaving the renewed
churn. )

Disappearing vs finding games

2025.4.13@08:03:00
Since I knew you, I have noticed
You seemed to enjoy playing games.
To match your mentality, here is mine.

If and only if you were looking for me,
We are in the same country, state and city,
But since you kept on disappear, 
I can not see you, neither can you.

Right this moment, I am at
One of my favorite beaches,
Sunbathing on one of the banana lounge chairs.
It has a pattern of many stripes,
But not the colour blue and white.
After resting here for a while,
I shall leave and heading to east,
Where I go will be between here and the botanic garden.
As soon as the weather gets warmer,
I shall be emerged in the water,
Surrounded by a circle curve concrete path,
Where people can stand and walk pass
Between me and the sea.
I will float freely with many different movements,
From Breath Stroke, Back Stroke to Free Style,
What I love most is the dolphin and butterfly's.
When I dry up, I will head back to the public transport,
Which will take me home sweet home.
Now you know where I am,
Catch me if you can.

forever

     ‘river flows 
      fast or slow.
       sun rays flash 
     on dancing waves,
        but river stops never,
          running forever.
                                 
          'after forever, 
     what’s its behavior?’
     'it meets the sea, 
        as we can see.’

       'whatever? then and then? 
         what to happen?’
        ‘river runs at ease 
          forever, as it is.’

    ' okay! whatever ! 
       after forever?’
      ‘it mixes with ocean.
        unique unison.’
                                  
       ‘then and then?’ 
       ‘asking in vain.
       no end in endeavor.
         river runs forever.

        river flows and flows,
           ceaseless goes.
           too clever,
        runs forever.’      

      ‘river may flow in bluster 
        or dry up on disaster.
         otherwise,
         river runs forever,
          also, after forever.'

From Shadows to Song

A macabre waltz across my mind's worn stage,
Shadows pirouette, a heavy starlit cage.
The echo of yesterday's mournful plea,
Whispers through the maze where hope can't flee.

Lies weave a chorus, sung in mournful chains,
Worthless burdens etched with self-made stains.
But tears dry up, revealing depths unseen,
A spark ignites, where resilience has been.

Even in darkness, a sliver pierces through,
A song unfolds, whispering dreams anew.
The fading waltz, a story etched in night,
Yields to morning's dawn, with strength taking flight.

Will You Still Love Me

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.

Homesick

I have never gotten seasick in the way the dictionary says.
I have never felt the rocking of you and been dizzy from it.
I have never swallowed too much of your salt,
I have never swam too far so I’d drown.
I have only ever felt like I was engulfed in you,
flowing with your waves.
I have swallowed your salt, and I have swam far out,
But it never hurt.
It had never hurt like it hurts to be away from you.
I’m seasick,
But in the way that when tears fall down my face and roll into my mouth, I can only taste your saltiness.
I dream that I’m near you, and everything is right.
I’m flowing free in your water.
But I’m not with you. I’d give anything to feel a wave roll over me,
But all I feel is the waves within, pulling me back as the tide recedes.
And then I’m always pushed back with the same force I’m pulled by.
I am not seasick in the way that people are because they have too much of you.
I am seasick because I have too little of you.
Humans drown in the ocean. Fish dry up on land.
Ocean, I think I could never drown in you, because I am already beached like a dying whale, drying out in the sun.

WATER DROP

How long does a drop last?
An eternity or dry up fast?
Wiped away by a towel
Or drank away with a swallow

Just a little drop of wet 
Not in the ocean yet 
But when they meet
They splash and crash
As they greet

Deep down in the sea
In and out of gills
So many wonders to see
Swooshing about with thrills

Washed up ashore
When heat begins to attack
Evaporate and grow more
Riding on a clouds back

How long will that cloud last?
Growing big and vast
Until temperature cools
And gravity rules

So down came that water drop
Into a river with a flop
Flowing fast and splashing
Into a pool savagely thrashing

Down a pipe, in fact
Coming out of a tap
Have you ever just sat
Thinking time has passed 

How long does that drop last
North and south snowy mass
Frozen in time forever trapped 
Part of a larger ice cap

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