Miss Shelly

I call her

For she’s spared these eyes

A humbling moment

I hope that I too

Will someday be a Miss Shelly

She’s clothed in dungarees, blonde hair in a messy bun

She cradles her wee one, who’s also matching her khaki jacket

Miss Shelly

Ever so protective

Very much the doting mother

She loves on her little one

And me? I watch

Till his eyes meet mine

Baby chuckles in delight

What a wonderful sight to behold

Ah Miss Shelly!

She’d do anything for him

She’d put herself last

Miss Shelly, go on and be blessed

And I can’t help but think

Of all the purest connections

My eyes have made

With the very young and innocent

I wish they’d remember

I wish that, this could someday make them smile

I wish they’d know, how for a few minutes

They had made a stranger’s day

Night of…

Night of laments

So why do I see the stars?

For every mistake, a choice I made

Night so contoured

Why do I sense hope?

The haze, slowly fading into the horizon

Night, of…restoration

Certainly must be

Regrets are in the distant

poetry

some fall in love

others love the idea of love

some thirst for water

others sip champagne in delight

poetry

i’ve fallen for you

you’re a scarf to smoothen out of place strands

you’re velvet to skin

cognac to the lost weeper

tea drank by the grassy bank

a sail to brave through strong winds and tides

pot of gold under the rainbow

a listener, comforter

nurse to the banes of my life

Have I Settled

He’s in the shower
I sit at the nightstand
Wiping off lip rouge
Taking off my dainty pearls

The moon appears
And I can hear the wind whistling
For a moment I’m fixated in a distant past
Remembering vividly, the tryst, that tryst

A common visitor, this curiosity
Mere seconds only,
I cannot help but ask…
‘Have I settled?’

Perpetuate (Credit: Skramblingeezer)

I loved this piece when I first read it. I had to write some sort of response instantly. Enjoy!

Do visit my dear friend’s blog: https://skramblingeezer.blog/

Beauty in the dark

PRETTY GIRLS

Pretty girls

Pretty woeful

Tears and mascara

Not so pretty after all

Pretty girls

Pretty sensitive

Holding on to hurtful remarks

Downcast and pensive

Pretty girls

Concealing ‘ugly’ features

To questionable standards

Emblazoned in tabloids and magazine spreads

Pretty girls

Pretty slaves

Pretty in a rush

To dig their graves

I Am The Ugly Duckling

Today I feel exposed

Insecure, lashing out at the mirror

Wrinkles I see, an unshapely nose

Depressed, hating the person that I am

I am the ugly duckling, for sure.

Today I keep to myself

Diffident, I am at my lowest point.

My protruding belly, and an unsightly breakout

Unhappy, I am crushed, falling to my knees

I am the ugly duckling, here to disappoint.

Today I declare revamping

Concerned, I feel the urge to change me

Dreaming of a curvy behind and a porcelain face

I will starve myself in hope of a weight drop

I am the ugly duckling, I hate me.

Today I can’t do anything

Unworthy, I give up, what’s the use

Hide your mirrors, cover up your lenses.

If you wish not to see the hag

I am the ugly duckling,

But go easy with your verbal abuse.

Beauty

What is beauty?
Is it the centerpiece of that decorated table,
Or the sunset over the city.
Is it the clouds that form up a lovely picture?
Or lending the poor a helping hand, when for them you have pity.
Maybe it’s the fireworks after some extravagant celebration?
Or a new mother’s joy at seeing her baby.
It could be emotion felt from a writer’s piece.
No doubt, there’s beauty in trying out a wedding gown and knowing it’s the winning dress.
There’s beauty when one sees his mistake and knows it’s right to confess,
Our insides brew beauty too, when we cry out of euphoria, when we feel peace embracing us,
Smile with your eyes, they say
It’s impeccable beauty.
But the real beauty is when the muscles put in the work to carve out your smile.
And finally, there’s beauty when after reading this, you can’t help but beam.