Imperfect Poem Novels & Stories

"Like a summer day, the Empress shines on us. Her black hair brings us the coolness of night; Her watchful eye provides us safety. We owe all we have to her power and might Without her we would crumble to dust Each day is a day to serve the Empress faithfully And on this day of days we give her praise Glory to the Empress." Aurora curtsied at the end and awaited a response. Standing behind her mother, her father smiled kindly. He had appreciated her effort. But her mother? She did not look amused. "You call that poetry? You could have at least made it rhyme." "It's free verse," the girl whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "That's not the only liberty you've taken today. Now what shall yo

Even her body and all over. "You know what I'll say if your Father was here and he called this work imperfect?" He asked, gaze fixed on the board. "What?" "If all we ever look for are the flaws of man, we never would have found the word "beauty". He is forgetting one thing. The imperfection of humans is what makes humans. I know this artwork is nothing close to reality but to the ones who can relate it to their lives," he paused. "to their dreams, they know that it is the perfect handwork in existence."

He asks warmly, an affectionate twinkle in his eye. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m so tired of getting credit for things that just so happened to occur in my general vicinity.” I complain, slumping back and rubbing my full belly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the compliments… I just… perfection is an impossible thing to live up to… and I am so far from perfect it’s laughable. I don’t want to end up with a reputation that I’m destined to fall short of – I’m only human after all.” A moment after the words leave my mouth, I realize they aren’t true. “I mean, not human, but I’m just a person like everyone else.”

It was a jam session. When the gardeners finally stepped back, the plain was alive with a complex, ever-changing, and beautifully imperfect symphony. It was their first harvest. They hadn’t brought a solution from the outside. They had simply watered the dormant seeds of creativity already present and watched a new kind of garden grow. “You have introduced a paradox,” Prism said to them as they prepared to leave. The monotone was gone from its voice, replaced by a weaving melody of thought. “Imperfection leads to complexity. Complexity leads to discovery. This is… preferable to optimal efficiency.”

“What do you see? Because all I see right now is emptiness.” “Put enough imperfections together and, eventually, you will achieve perfection. But even then, perfection is all about perspective. Maybe you and Ivan and your imperfections will make the kind of perfect you both need.” She cupped my cheeks and kissed the top of my head. “Sit here, drink wine, and I will go and call my pain-in-the-arse twin to make sure he’s not taking a hammer to a door or something.”

I was surprised to hear her think like that. “What are you saying, Poppy? No one is truly perfect. I'm not even the ideal wife. My husband has his shortcomings too. None of our kids are without their faults. Take Faith, for instance—no matter how kind-hearted he is, I wouldn’t call him perfect. Maybe as a partner, yes, I believe he’ll be a perfect husband for you. But he has his weaknesses too, which means he isn’t perfect either. Every person has their own unique set of flaws, whether they’re physical or mental. That’s what makes us special, Poppy. It’s perfectly okay not to be flawless. Those imperfections help shape our identity. If everyone were perfect, we’d miss out on the chance to le

I'm also impatient, so I grab it and turn it over. The sketch is beautiful. A woman holding her heart in her hand. As I look at it, I tilt my head, her body appears to be melting in some ways. She looks beautiful, but like she is hurting, holding her broken heart in her hand. I begin reading the poem. Shattered reality A broken vision Sees imperfections Flaws and disfigured Beauty is the truth Truth is lost Bound by the words Fear that cripples Shattered reality Broken vision Unable to see the beauty

I grabbed onto my bed sheets and shut my eyes. "You're wet for me baby," he teased softly and in a voice that made me even wetter than I already was. I shivered as I released my hold on the sheets and moved my hands underneath his shirt, removing it and taking in his perfect fit. Why everything about this man has to be so damn perfect?

She was my soul mate. “I am losing myself, love. I am slowly losing it, seeing your look-alike every day. Every day, she tries so hard to be good to me. She takes care of our son and cooks for me, but I never eat them, but she doesn't give up. She is too perfect for me, too perfect that she is changing everything around me. I miss your imperfections and flaws, I miss being imperfect with you. I miss it when we don't know how to take care of Ryan, and we panic.” I laughed softly, slowly tracing her face with my fingertips.

was admirable is the way everyone has been looking for ways to spoil what he wants to keep. It seems that he wants to continue to accumulate evils, because he keeps insisting and wanting to stay by his side. He was the worst idiot that could have ever been crushed, no doubt, that omen was fulfilled. Williams doesn't seem to know what he wants and now decides to try randomly. If he had wanted to be with the beautiful Thompson, then why does he keep marking distance.