Pretense Poems - Poems about Pretense

Can loving you ~ ever be a mistake? Come what may, I won’t ever take a break. Even if it’s pretense— life itself feels fake....

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The pretense of knowing more than the immediacy the appearance the story seems as futility aglow though we all pretend and the pretense is it too pointing to that which is not there seems a futility yet that which is not there may appear as pointing...

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Why do we pretend to not long for the heart of another? Why do we let people we want to let into our world, stay on the other side of the glass? Why do we overthink the little notes that Cupid plays when we see them? Why do we withhold the flowers we picked for them? Why do we...

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Ah romance — such an elevated form of make-believe, with promises and roses that are rarely kept. Two players, both knowing, smiles just as wily, each coming closer, each stinging a lie. They say love’s a puzzle, some misty dance, but more likely it feels like an enterprise, a turn – a wink and a promise neither has any right to...

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We went around in circles, yet the truth lingered right between us, smirking as if it had already triumphed. You labeled it complicated. I called it chaos. There’s nothing beautiful about pretending— about trying to bridge a gap so vast that you can taste the deception in your mouth. But we went ahead anyway. Sat there. Grinning, as if we didn’t already realize this was the...

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Oh! I'm tired Drained by this charade This masquerade of a ball An illusion empty of dancers, no costume, no mask Fatigued by an endless series of mirages Hope has finally bent Dragging me down, weighing me down in the dumbs I rise or try But my head is heavy with weary Dread pulls me under and I drown My howls for help...

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I’ve never been where they tread, chasing mirage through desert storm. I look at evasive eyes perennially petrified, see their void vision fixed fast on fantasy, shroud of devious dust spreads on sneaky people. Gleam of opalescent oasis out of sight, they wane in wasteland like shriveled shadows...

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all poetry begins with presumption should you expect anything different here? I would not hold a full lung's air too long would not bust a bronchial capillary in the waiting for its novelty to find you my preconception is that you get me my scents of sandalwood and burned cedar smoking off my ungenerous rolling bones each night in the dicey flight to...

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11/28/2023 Let’s be fools and pretend this planet won’t implode. Beneath a mosaic ceiling, hiding in a grand,poetry dome. Where ethics and morality are shoved in an oaken drawer, And with relief and a sigh,...

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Marble-sided buildings sunk in the sand Jumped 40 glassy stories on command. Everyone thinks life is nothing and money’s grand. Rolling chair hawkers spiel and cutely chide Sunday suited daddies to pay for their brides. So, a cavalcade of marmalade mommies ride, (Fatted infants firmly holstered at each side), Tossing constant comment diapers drenched with pride To the beach where broken dreamers...

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Forensic evidence is no pretense against the defense/ It will prove prevalence in the family’s ordinance/ Moronic elements that ail his laments are just sordid and dense/ More on it as the envelopment to derail inherent ends he upends/ Four chronic tipple alcoholics sail away an heir apparent out of pretense/ Tour scenic and hop the fence frail to tear...

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Life is graciously fair to all by birth To live up to chances, know your true worth...

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Funny but the true cure, sickness admires. That embodies joy which environmental service inspires, To continuing its selfless humanity upkeep... Which birthed our artistry: pens weep. Blushing worries silent babies' trials to speak. Inner mutterings key, fear demands seek- How hens never wish to travel high. Aren't they truly born to fly? Not until been tempted; hunting...

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Our Life of Cheap pretense We could watch through a lens For its failures to yield us a half pence Or deliver crisp commonsense; One’s decided airs of pretense A mere sitting on the fence, As one feels not life as it is tense Nor The Original Writer help his pens… I’d start questioning the essence Of A Talkative...

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Beware of the scribes Who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplaces Seats of honor in synagogues places of honor at banquets They devour the houses of widows and As a pretext Recite lengthy prayers They will receive a very severe condemnation [Taken from MK 12:38-40]...

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