Refined Poems - Poems about Refined

refined Geisha dressed to seduce taught the best etiquette polished painted face hides her feelings cannot share them she is a doll...

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Forged in the fires of tribulation. Struggling through Hell's retaliation. Hope is strained beyond belief. All I seek is solace and relief. Betrayal is the lonely cry of the outcast. I strained so hard for the pain not to last. I embrace my tortured, crying soul. Seeking to calm its deep, mournful woe. Chains of my burdens, I drag along. As my...

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sizzling with spices each mushroom has a story --- existence in wastes ...

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STREAMS OF CONSCIOUSNESS The imaginary musings of my mind, experience past & present lingers long, dusted off,re-opened,viewed from time to time, retrospective perspective changes all; Maturity's long-sightedness squints aghast, then savours the mellowness of memory; A tear,a smile washes nostalgia's face; Today will be yesterday,gathering dust, then filed,microfiched,all too soon forgotten 'til an event unlocks the museum again. Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2010...

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When I was young, I ran my tongue. And what is worse, I loved to curse. It’s true there’s loss When we get old. But what remains, Refined like gold. ————- H/T to Where I Once Walked by Gershon Wolf...

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I look in the mirror And imagine what I could be. I picture a crown without tears. I see silver veins coursing through me. Refined gold is what I bleed. My tears are titanium. I eat copper like wheat. Yumm radium. Iron and Steel are sweet. I like my Cobolt well done. Aluminum is always a treat. But the nickle and magnesium, are as tender...

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Glowing, golden orb is lost, plunged into a molten fire. reduced to streaks of red and dross, victim of the night’s swift ire: refined, but not without a cost. ————— for the Bite Size Poem no.47 Poetry...

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My uncle,... so like Dad! But a stout, big bellied version with different gait. Joy he had! But unlike Dad Who was a town guy and refined, No fad! Busy, Tending the farm. Free!! My uncle,... so like Dad Who was a town guy and refined!! Free!!!...

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Everyone said how gentle the mayor's daughter was, Desiere' was a romantical woman, kind and refined. I tried to get to know her, but there was a teensy bit of fuzz. On her fancy pink dress, and she began to grouse and whine. Who brought it in? She demanded, smoothing out her satin. Someone pointed to me and said, “Probably...

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A refined gent who serves lunch in Decatur Is the posh bistro’s most genteel waiter He serves fine escargot and tres-bon merlot Then mosies home to his deep-fried potater 2/3/22...

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Straining to see truth through all the haze, With incomplete thoughts, it’s like a maze. Bits and pieces accumulate, But how do they connect, how do they relate? We try to relate them to things we know, But with so many differences, where do they go? Too many topics to assimilate, Constantly having to add on or update. Too long I’ve merely gone...

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While trickling thick amber honey in my black decoffied coffee I wonder why I never noticed until just ever now How refined white sugar has monopolized my wider full-hued view of more nurturing nutritional brown sugars natural bio-resonant sweets healthier sugar-phosphate cooperative relationships as if the least of these white privileged rich and resilient wealth potentials were iconic of healthier multiculturing also-rans Like holistically engrained rich brown...

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So many boys just cannot stand carrots Orange veggie sticks for them have no merit But as their eyesight declines Their taste buds get more refined Orange eye candy's sweet ~ They can stare at it...

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Rose colored glasses long ago shattered... No time for phantom kisses... Nor faux acts of love... The keeper of this heart— will captivate me unpretentiously... Taking me as I am... Sweeping me off my feet sending my soul on a mission of surprise mingled with admiration... Whisk me away on his magic carpet— to a special place with the prospect of sharing...

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Though the lights are dimming, My heart feels the pain. I see the tears, I hear the rain, And I’m left, simply saying, As my mind interprets, “What’s it like to breathe the same?” Am I the only one to blame? Where am I going, from light to black, Or back inside, this sleeping bag? This train has stopped, on a landing of track, That...

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