can shivering in pain be heard,
taut timbre ~ now memories...
the sound is real ~ pain forgotten
yet heard like iced limbs shaken
and crash where summer thunder reigned
~ now fall in icy silence...
Written Jan 29 for Nette's "Connect the Dots" contest
his talent kept hidden from the world
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Smaller in stature, yet they are pigeons,
Not as colorful, but still gray, white, brown.
While pigeons thrive in cities, doves love woods,
Though both belong within the same bird line.
The symbol of peace, love, and purity,
Never regarded as pests like the pigeons.
They never dwell near filth nor in clutter,
So doves are welcomed more in human hands.
Timid, reserved, and forming smaller flocks,
Their cooing softer, sweetly resonant.
They show elaborate courtship in dance,
With flight more agile, graceful, and refined.
Unlike the pigeons, bold and unafraid,
A dove will flee before it stands its ground.
Yet still, it finds its way through storm and sky,
A creature born for silence, peace, and grace.
Timid Tom had a typical token,
a tiny teddybear,
a tasty taco,
a tattered tophat
Tom had his things taken by taunting Tess
, but Tom toughen
So he told the tall teacher
Now he is no longer timid Tom
Building me up from within
Understanding a smile returning with grin
Turquoise love that is a wonderful win
Timid yet optimistic it will never end
Ears that hear your hearts denim desire
Racing pulse burning within like red fire
Feeling a touch from a king a black sire
Longing to prove our love from higher
Indigo inspiration heaven sent
Emerald eyes with tears lament
So much to feel butterflies intense
Timid Man
The ridiculed mind of a man stands between two lines, To stagger in thought, Never to vine. My slivered emotions, As they wither away, Are left to wallow in past decay. To dig at a splinter under the skin, Scratching the surface of catered sin. Wish I was to dead to care, Without pain, And no despair. To fear without trembling, To see without eyes, To feel without touching, To have reasons without whys. To breath without taking, To cry without tears, To suffer without aching, To pass days without years. To live without dying, To fly without wings, To search without finding, To flow without streams. To end without starting, To never hale a dream, To protect without guarding, Nothings what it seems. There's a look in his timid eyes, To afraid to live, To afraid to die. Your betrayed by self illusion, You live in thoughts demise, To be suffocated by deception, And blinded by its disguise.
In my meek and gentle voice timid,
gentle spirit I am not my earthen father yet I...
In my quiet roar;
My Father will come behind of me and in me HIS voice through me shall
~`ROAR`~
1/20/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©2023
Boys do not cry,
When they are shy.
Timid, gutless, young man feebly muttered
Then mustered spartan courage and puttered,
And fluttered he like a dove
And stuttered to say his love,
But "Shoo - Shoo!" pretty, beloved uttered.
Posted on Oct. 5, 2020
Alliteration 004 (I prefer old poems) Poetry Contest
Poet Destroyer A
Limerick – Syllabic count: 10/10/7/7/10 syllables
Joji Varghese Kuncheria
I'm a Timid Butterfly
Like a butterfly I roam around,
In this beautiful garden of life,
Not knowing the evil it hides,
Just enjoying nature at its best.
As I grow I become so fearful
Of this beautiful garden I live in,
My freedom becomes limited,
I learn the many vices of men.
From the child I have grown up into,
From a loving and innocent child
To a timid and fearful little one,
To face the world as it unfolds.
The world has become abusive
To children in ways that are evil,
That even little girls are not safe,
So rampant is child abuse now.
I am no longer a wandering butterfly,
Free as before as a child I was,
I now look in horror at this world
Pagan and decayed to the core.
*******
From the way she walks, her heart is clearly on the high side
her gracious looks sinks every confidence in so much sand
chances have come and gone, he cracks an empty barrel
she makes it laborious for an admirer to be single
can it be this difficult to mingle and seek consent?
His promises of their bliss still came out in singular tenses
together with his panics, he’s evidently not a player in the game
expressing a not-so matured exposure not far from his cradle
he’s an amazement with the need to step up much higher
he goes into hiding, follow ups are superfluous
he can only get her type in a planet that is cuboid
his lack is cute, so she ditches sophistication
to amazingly give his plain heart a realistic chance.
Oh, my dear I didn’t touch you
Burning nights under the moon,
Being kind, I didn’t catch you
Hoping I will see you soon.
I was shy too shy too timid
For your penetrating sight
And I wasn’t cruel I didn’t,
Yes, I didn’t read your mind.
I had no my tears forgiving
There was no my fear, but I
was so sad when you were leaving
Never saying me good-bye.
Maybe I was wrong. I didn’t
Burn these nights under the moon
You are not mine and so be it
I don’t hope to see you soon.
Tim Timid No Longer
In the misty midst of diabolical centre ground
Timothy vows to replace the endless loops
of mindless regurgitation and rise to the fore
Indigo crescents point to the crown and middle
ground that periphery holds for a place in time
where short cuts and diagonal matter no more
Where is the rainbow he questions himself
when waters have dried with sun eclipsed
by sordid caves and forceful dis-illumination
He strikes a forlorn figure has burnt the candle
at both ends yet wicked wick has found a match
Together they gather the light from contused confusion
Sheltered at their hearth and shivering from darkness
they search and retrieve a firestone of nascent meaning
and glow the colours for themselves to prime the prism
Slowly rain falls again to dry their tears and sores
sun soars to wet their appetite for more adventure
Emerging from a fog of blessings Tim feels whole again
Filter through the fortitude
mix together the mundane
cut up, squeezed, then discarded
but not a bit of flavor remains
tepid to the tongue
the words still taste all wrong
rinsing down the memories
they've been sitting out too long
the kettle starts to whistle
timid thoughts begin to run
I want to stop these fingers
As I want to stop this brain
To be dominated by mind's splinters
Those words which unuttered to be complained
I want to close my ears
As they whisper from my heart to my mind's gears
No gate can stop them, wandering like a keen spears
If only numbness could be gained just by glasses of beers
I want flowers, sweets and beauties
To dispel all the anxieties and insecurities
But devil besides me
Replace the angel of my sanity
I am timid
To release my self from dungeon of rules and ethic
To break my inability and my limit
To be undressed from this boring gimmick
Butterfly flies out of cocoon
Counting time from seconds to days
Making my own sun in my very noon
While collecting diamonds in my own ways
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.