Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
~Langston Hughes
The clouds spill a thousand secrets
but keep ten thousand regrets
ensconced within the billowy frames
of a life lived with all its shames.
The shame of greed,
the shame of need,
the shame of selfishness,
the shame that leads to wretchedness.
I’ve been told that clouds are wise
and provide the waters to baptize,
drown the sins that keep us bound
And set our feet on higher ground.
every word she utters maligns, defames and shames
she slurs, slips, and slanders
an expert, she tears down and villainizes
people she knows and people she has never met
no one wants to sit next to her at dinner parties
no worries
she is no longer invited
Today, it is my sacred duty
to understand and express this Spanish beauty,
but did you happen to know, perchance,
that Dora Maar had hailed from France?
Beautiful, sophisticated, and elegant,
her eyes show she's intelligent.
They shine dark, and her hair does too,
a splash of yellow on ruffles blue.
Her jacket is geometrically composed.
What she observes is undisclosed.
She has a thought, which she reserves,
revealing it - what purpose would it serve?
I love her greenly painted fingertip,
touching an eminently kissable lip.
Somethings missing, an anomalisa,
yet, to me, she shames the Mona Lisa.
Why is it that the way she's drawn,
a good portion of her head is gone?
In Leonardo's picture, a smile was "halfed",
but it's the cerebrum in Pablo's craft.
Guernica, was inspired, by lovely Dora,
the lady with enlightened aura -
a mysterious creature, surrealist,
photographer, painter, anti-fascist.
What I proclaim now, I know whereof,
henceforth, with her, I am in love.
Ah Epstein Files, who’s who of naughty names
Making life come good at resorts with dames.
But I’m disappointed
For not making the grade
Among some biggest guns that play such games
And make some rare headlines
Hard for poetic lines,
Whatso open fame’s gate is free from shames,
No evidence of guilt
Is no proof of no guilt,
A top gun legal authority claims.
___________________________________
Happenings | 15.02.2026 | fame, name, shame, humour, society, world
Note: More and more Big Names get linked to Epstein. Trump and Musk, two famous Bills, actors, linguists, and even motivational maestros. Poets? Not sure, but here‘s my chance as the only unknown name. As the needle of suspicion comes closer home, this is what this pen-pusher hopes.
The middle eastern spell that shames the solemn
In shadowed midden dwells the stain now common
In darkness beaten fell in name of goodwill
Our princess peace repels their pain and blood spill
She struggles selfless held in chains by order
Poor passive tranquil, gelled by blames and borders
The stolen fertile meld of reigns now taken
Where powered egos tell of hope forsaken
Let gentle logic down the dames of warfare
Whose metal madness grounds the games to threadbare
Pray mistral mildness pound and maim their story
'Til peaceful light surrounds regaining glory
Chi ha colpa del vento che piega la sua vela now raggiungera mai il porto (1)
He lies about the past as it it never came,
My faults,my frailties he magnifies by sly eyes;
He calls me a drama queen,shames when I cries
I never loved him,my being here was just a game.
His friends now and his false idols parade for fame
While every scar,every pain I bear becomes a blade;
He calls my care a fake,the one so unafraid
To drown,overboard,in fire-is assigned the blame.
Now I rise,take back the dignity that'ts mine alone,
March to the river and the mountain for my soul';
Mend my spirit Jordan,bone by ageing bone.
Deny the lies that aim to tighten control.
I am human and mortal,but strong and steady I shall be,
And break these evil chains that cruelly gaslight me.
Black lashes
blown off of a fingerpad that throbs
in tandem with an overharvested eyelid
flit to the floor—
wasted wishes
manufacted in mockery of dandelion's dance.
Keratin cracks
beneath the pressure of enamel,
exposing weak, watery skin
on trembling fingertips—
nervous nibbles
evolved into voracious, cannibalistic cravings.
Though hope
fractures under the weight of repugnant gazes
and my unsightly nubs grasp blindly for pigments to suppress
these habitual shames—
flesh forgives
more than the self, and, like a forest after a fire, it grows back.
It always grows back.
If love is...
feeling unloved,
anxious and starved,
give my regards
Does the torment of love's hate
eliminate pain?
If love is trembling lips
and sultry eyes, upon them
everlasting cries,
Charcoal tears that pour
What answers are there
for these unwanted sores?
Binding spells of
the unforgiving way swells
She the accuser shames
with her bitter blame
Aging with, until the bitter end
Accusing of his unrequited love
Awaits for his apologies
with a scorn, torn in self-pity
Nothing gained, nothing learned
Yearn, yearn, yearn
Self-loathing is apparent
Possibly inherent
Therefore, never really knowing
love and its understanding
and had mistaken it
enamored in its--lustful cradle
When the soul still yearns,
The chaos in her heart burns,
lonely is desire
True beauty, indeed (to all number-theorists),
reveals the distribution of the primes.
Beauty, too, is courage, the defiant fists
of a defender that we praise in rhymes.
Beauty are oaths, that Prince Hector all times
keeps to shield city, child, and princess bride;
or King Priam's grace for thoughtless Paris's crimes,
rather than wrath for his treach'rous regnocide.
What beauty is not, is Euclid mortified,
if Riemann's Hypothesis's not in sight,
or the Zeta function's proof verified
(for the spread of primes) gives zero insight.
But beauty is what frames your lovely face:
which even shames Helen of the Trojan race!
Suite Suite!!
Presence of
White Pupuliary reflux
Macromers
endophthalmitis
senile, senile
Piggyback, piggyback!
Her deep shames and insercurties
white claw!
White Claw.
High Steak Royalities
Her self importance
insulted him
as she made him feel
inferior: her male fetishes
where childish amd she
changed the defintion of
mannish to define her charcter
I saw as stupid
but refused to say so that
she would augue that I felt
a brotherly love for herr
I didn't I liked Cuckolding
to keep males straught
He thought himself wiser
and was
He knew that the rules of cuckolding are often unspoken
and they may have been sewn at
places and ages that aren't wise to ever revisit
lacking confidence
and it should never be accepted and it's
teachings may involve those
who aren't aware of being involved.
The Meanest Socail Norm
Shachaph
Cuckoo
or Cuckoldery
innocent bystander
wears the stain of guilt
a blind eye
turning away
shames blamelessness
He's a certified loner
Very Independent
Always doing everything
Without anyone support
Without confiding in any
Due to betrayals in the past
Always focusing on personal interests.
A self consultant
Always talking to self
Many label him crazy while bullying
From their own awareness
They're not aware of his pains and shames
He's always consulting himself
No longer trust people with his weaknesses.
Always staying in his lane
Without any complain
Already use to the pains
Confidentially walking around
With scars from trauma and betrayals
He rides in solitude, a deep thinker very empathetic.
Love is life, suffering, sacrifices,
The exchange of glances, sometimes tinged with hypocrisy,
Tears wiped away, gestures that fade.
Hearts harden with every argument, every scream.
In the gut, pain is engraved.
It’s a battle, a struggle, a never-ending war,
For honor, for pride, for a tumultuous future,
Where you cling to the other like a certainty dusted with doubt.
Love is that flame that refuses to die.
It’s a hymn to life, a refusal to bow,
Under the weight of trials and painful betrayals.
Love is holding on, staying the course despite an accumulation of intimate shames,
When the world pushes you to lose your faith.
It’s that strength, that rage that guides you,
Love is never giving up.
What beauty is (to the geometrist),
has the shape of the Golden Ratio.
Beauty is courage, the defiant fist
of a protector fear can't overthrow.
Beauty, also, is Hector's promised vow,
to defend city, child, and princess bride.
What beauty is, moves Priam, to not show
his ire for Paris's treach'rous regnocide.
What beauty is not, is beauty falsified,
by artifice and insincere, harsh light;
what beauty is not, is show turned on worldwide,
that's streamed, displayed, and wirelessed day and night.
However, beauty is what frames your face:
which e'vn shames Helen of the Trojan race!
Preening poetess you amaze me
Your glowing speckled freckled face
As you quilt a lilt of melodies
With not even a hair out of place
Well caped and draped in shimmering light
Soft gabardine all in tangerine
You muster a bluster of eloquence
A vision the world has so seldom seen
Your eyes the prize that shames the sunrise
Those rings and bling at your fingertips
And whenever heard the spoken word
Sounds so much sweeter upon your lips
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.