You look uncomfortable in your skin,
always primping and preening;
beauty shines outside, but then within,
your vanity is scheming.
Always seeking the observer's gaze,
who knows what you're meant to be?
It must be exhausting to erase
flaws the world will never see.
Oh wifey, dear and darling.
Whom, I thought I linked my life.
Ran off, with our scheming mailman.
In the middle of last night.
Same one who brought the letter.
Showed, I'm fired from my job.
The boss, who docked my pay, and left me saddened, riddled, robbed.
She did use up that money, to buy an escalade.
Then ran my dog quite over, near the ending of last may.
After this, I tried the beach, bury my troubles in the sand.
Only issue was, I have an allergy to crab.
Now I'm sitting here at home, on my couch, I owe two payments.
Things are looking sorta bleak, and everything's so tight.
Perhaps I'll make my fortune, going on the Price Is Right.
I developed skills with the sky
The significance of beauty amazes me
Mesmerized by the suns rays beaming
The glow is on my face and I'm scheming
Tranquilized by the beauteous be
Of too the clouds above me in sight
They wander in the wind - I see shapes
Like inkblots, too I know the muse
In the heavenly skies I adore too the Greek
The music - the cleft hidden I peek
In the night air I see the beauty too of stars
Jupiter sometimes aligns too with Mars
I gaze a falling star is in my palm
I wish - I toss it like a bouquet
Then times pass by and dawn breaks again
Over and over again the brilliant rays
The melody tuned in my mind
Apollo God of poetry ,music and Art
I paint the pictures my mind sees
The skills? I cope it sometimes flatters me
It's a factor of hope , I meditated again
I love the skies ever dark of blue
Reflections at times in my head and when
I write - I'm tuned to rhythm too
So I've got the beat in my soul so true.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.
—Henry David Thoreau
In all his scheming, the wicked person arrogantly thinks,
“There’s no accountability, since there’s no God.”
—Psalm 10:4
Cat Woman in Vapid Dissolution
I ceased to hear the birds, not
because they aren’t there, but
the tweeting is on repeat.
I ceased to see the magnolias,
gardenias, and daffodils, fooled
by the rolling reels on repeat.
I ceased to see the glittering snow.
It has disappeared. It’s too late
for this year. I shovel serials.
I ceased to see kindness and mercy,
seated on the Almighty’s throne.
Basking in my goodness - worship me.
I ceased to be a human being; stronger
than that. I make the rules, don’t follow
yours; incompatible except with the cat.
I ceased to live my life; I bask in hers,
on the screen-scripture; I know nuances
of her lyrics, every curve, lingering gossip.
I ceased to be
I don’t care who I am
like the cat
Years of addiction has definitely taken
a toll
I’m not even sure when I actually lost
control
The constant scheming to get what
I need
With the sting of the needle I instantly
I felt freed
That feeling didn’t last very long
at all
Before I knew it I was making
another call
All my bridges I left broken and
burned
This hell I’m living I’ve definitely
earned
Isolation became the only thing
that I knew
Sticking a needle in my arm was the
only way to get through
I’m now left with tracks and there was
never a train
The wild beast of addiction I still can’t
contain
I’m broken and my life I’ve throw
away
I’m nothing but an addict what more
can i say
What stone should be thrown,
To disown a system I'm shown,
I know I'm not alone,
Life feels like a big loan,
A load I own and pay for,
Really I don't want it anymore,
Sick of seeing the poor and miserable,
Life divisible by what's in the bank,
Worried about gas in their tank,
Thankful for the littles things,
My capabilities can bring,
It's hard to sing scraping the floor,
Hoping to find a little more,
A quarter, A dime,
How much can I find this time,
Priming myself for the best,
Knowing I'll have enough for the quest,
Second guessing my choices,
Inner voices start screaming,
Little demons scheming,
A seemingly impossible task,
Asks to be acknowledged,
Dredged up from their beds,
I'm tired of what's in my head,
I'd feel better off dead,
I've said it over and over,
The boulder on my shoulder,
Is growing older everyday,
What stone Should I throw today?
Hey,
I’ve been dreaming
Dreaming,
Scheming and
Beaming
But now is the time to wake up and
Chase my dream,
Lest I be seen as
A dreamer
A schemer and
A loser
Dream can be your comfort zone
Pursuing dream can be your comforting moan
Achieving it will surely be your wondering throne.
So get up now and act out your dream.
Beware of the monsters inside of your head
Their plotting and scheming on how you'll be dead
They twist and they turn every innocent dream
In a way to bring nightmares that will make you scream
You'll beg for forgiveness and wish to wake up
As the night turns to daylight they'll try to make up
To make you believe you have nothing to fear
Until they return when midnights draw near
Now they come in the daytime and mess with your mind
You question your senses and those of your kind
But when will they stop, you so long to know
Once you are ready they'll start to go
They'll slowly retreat with the strength in you growing
Their power diminished with the more you are knowing
But don't be complacent, for they will return
To teach you the lessons of all you should learn
The weakness inside is rearing its head
The monsters are lurking still under your bed
Beware of the monsters, the monsters beware
For taking one's life would be so unfair
Could this scheming and opportunist king,
whose subjects, it seems, were not his concern,
be persuaded to stop at anything?
The answer was "negative", they would learn.
T'were many in his ruthless plots, ensnared.
Did loyalty guarantee survival?
Some trusting supporters were left unspared,
like any vile enemy or rival.
But stopping, not, he then killed his brother,
and proceeded to the innocent kids,
then killed his wife, not much of a bother.
Morally speaking, he sure hit the skids.
Had England then had a democracy,
could they ever have had a Richard Three?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The squirrel clung to icy bark,
whiskey-eyed, tail stiff as chalk~
barked through his chattering teeth:
Holy moly, I can’t feel my face degrees!
His acorns? Forgotten. Priorities?
Now strictly: Don’t become a popsicle.
The wind hissed back—Too late, too late—
while his whiskers crystallized at eight.
By noon, he’d thawed, resumed his scheming,
but still muttered, still unbelieving~
Weatherman LIED! Absolute disgrace.
Next time, I’m moving to OUTERSPACE.
Not fretting couldn’t be gladder about getting podgy?
Forgetting about a stodgy bladder that’s definitely dodgy?
Sadder even snotty about needing a potty..regretting being dotty
Betting some grotty grumps about bumps & lumps anything spotty
Sometimes memory stumps.. only remember embers now befuddled
Somehow the huddled cast of the distant past still cuddled
Ashes of once clear flashes of near yesteryear appear muddled
Ribald oracle.. grinning about going bald...hair thinning
Apart from the ears and nose where it shows..grows & flows
Can't pretend follicle foes & woes.. do descend dear friend
Clearer you're now nearer to the rear end than the beginning
Refined increasingly find you do become more kind
Other than the tumour of another baby boomer
Defined needy seedy greedy.. must feed me consumer
Not a rumour..increasingly I pined for candour and humour
Chaps can perhaps blossom as a wined & dined late bloomer
No remorse.. scheming larrikin leaning's still in force
Gleaning the gleaming meaning of life is all about giving
Dreaming.. loving.. smile beaming and "living" of course
Can it be beyond, insane
when a brain begets a brain,
putting it in competition
with its own junior edition?
Proud of tot's data retrieval,
will he mimic papa's evil,
wishing not for an embrace,
but ever scheming to replace?
I'm rife with distress and bother -
will the son turn on the father?
i am my father's child
a wicked tongue
to match a lifelong trial
lies spill from my lips
sweet as candy
soft as summer rain
life under my mother's strict gaze
never quite entertaining
new stories
new half truths
new places, new people;
i am my father's child
a scheming heart
embellished fables spring from my lips
strong as the current
abundant as a river
flowing harshly
eroding the innocent child
i could've been
my mother's cold gaze softening finally
as i spill my last lie
and it is ok
it is perfectly fine
for i am as sweet as candy
soft as summer rain
strong as the current
abundant as the river lethe
A lie that is coloured white
A lie that make things seem all right.
A lie that leaves you asking why
Discovering those lies that made you cry.
Lies exposed, were meant as a joke
The lies that many hearts have broke.
Lies to conceal a secret love affair
The liars lie, is the truth they swear.
Scheming lies to scam for money
Lies told that were deemed as funny.
Lies can relate to anything
But often it's pain it tends to bring.
That little white lie that Santa is real
Habitual liars in overkill.
A lie told in kindness to comfort or protect
When a lie is discovered what's the affect?
A good liar will hide it well
Blinds you under their misleading spell.
The question is, why do we lie at all?
Whether they are big, white or small.
Harmless lies are weaved in white
Cunning lies are black as night.
A lie means intention to deceive
Is it good or bad what a lie tries to achieve?
I'm forever chasing rainbows
pretty rainbows in the air
they're so high way up in the sky
they are but my dreams
which all fade and die
altho' fortune's hiding
I'm dreaming dreams
I've looked everywhere
building castles scheming schemes
tho' born anew their days are few
and yet as the daylight's dawning
like a sweet butterfly
they return in the morning
there's one at the end or so I've been told
but will I ever find my own pot of gold
Sub Categories
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.