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Age People Poems | Age Poems About People

These Age People poems are examples of Age poems about People. These are the best examples of Age People poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Money-God

Trust not in the words: "In God We Trust", printed on currency,
for God and Money should be kept separate,
unless one desires to tempt fate with the Money-God,
tempt fate by not over-turning the money-lenders' tables,
although many might argue how this isn't good for business.

Why not know the value of life,
instead of focusing too hard on the prices of Idols.

People are bleating at the prospect of "God" being removed
from money, arguing that if God is removed from money,
the grazing grounds will become Godless.

Godless? 
With or without the words, 
a Money-God is a God nonetheless.
There is at least one true God, 
whether man-made or not;
an authority of control,
a God of profit margins.
Violence is a profit margin.
Hatred is a profit margin.
Bullets, Amendments, and Death, are all profit margins.

The war being waged upon children, is a profit margin.

If I had been given the chance, 
I would have tried my best to take him out,
morphed the vapours of my remaining hatred into bullets,
or torn him apart with my hands.
To stop innocents from losing their innocence.
There are lines drawn in minds,
that if crossed over, stretch beyond the bristle-board of rehabilitation.
Even Clockwork Orange bleeds into crimson spatters.

When a child survives a massacre,
runs across his school field to find safety from a stranger,
proclaiming to the stranger, "I can't go back to my school, it isn't safe there.
My teacher was killed, I don't have a teacher anymore.
All of my friends are dead."....

....then innocence has been lost, and the Money-God is empowered even more.
Lost innocence spreads like a disease through the minds of global villagers.
Fear breeds fear, breeds control and disintegration of the Stream-Mind.

If I had been given the chance,
I would have fought fire with fire,
fed the beast within, 
taken him apart with a breath of hatred.
Breathed it out, pushed it out, purged it out.

Satan is a scapegoat used by people who are unwilling 
to take accountability for their actions and sacred responsibilities.
The Beast is humanity -
not marked by a fairy-tale Devil,
but instead marked by the Money-God created in the image of man;
recreating the image of man through fear.

Some people might be intrigued by how many definitions of God there are.
Even if money is a necessity,
within our core there should reside a different Kingdom -
without and within, within and without.

If I had been given the chance -- past tense....

....if I am given the chance,
I will try my best to take him out,
smudge him out
with the remaining hatred in my heart.
Breathe it out, push it out, purge it out,

until all that's left is to love,
until all that's left is to love.







December 14th, 2012 - S.H.E.S:  28 - 2 = 26




January 7th, 2013




.


Details | Rhyme | |

Dust From The Past

Looking back again, back into the past, 
it was written in sand, all those questions we asked
on those last days of summer, something was wrong
as the leaves started turning, and shadows grew long

There was dust on the tables, and the clutter remained
where never before, .... had it not been restrained
You were known for your grace, now your pride was at risk
Quickly swept, polished fine, brushed away with a whisk

This just wasn't you, having bricks without mortar
You were never unkempt ...now a life out of order?
You would never have allowed such things out of place
Something so small, would have been your disgrace

There was something to blame, something was strange
Even small tasks, we noticed, had changed
Another piece of a puzzle, fell into place
Your trace of bewilderment, when a name was erased

Your memory lost, and a world gone absurd ...
Then, once it was you....alone and disturbed 
Lost and afraid, but mostly confused
Forgetting the day, many things you would lose,
or someone you loved, so much undefined
shoved back to blind spaces, your words couldn't find

Dust motes collected where never before,
would settle, make home, in your mind evermore
Without any warning, without any sound
until you were gone, and the years fell around

Dreams that you had, were drawn in the sand
into the traces of dust of a far away land

_________________________________________________
Inspired by Isaiah Zerbst's Contest: "Pick a Title"
10/31/14


Details | Free verse | |

Gary's Yard Sale, the story

Gary's Yard Sale, the story
                                                  Authored by Chuck Keys

Among the rustbelt cities of yesterday,
Along the edges of the Detroit River,
A short distance to the side,
Resides a slice of Victorian times,
Excesses exceeded needed, 
Where age confronts time,
The day before meets the day of,
And greets tomorrow.

Those in the hood
And outside,
Meet and greet among 
The scraps of forgotten memories.
Lawns filled with bygones of size,
Tables filled with important somethings,
Maybe everythings,
For important that evolved into history.

Where memories become linked,
Each to a stored thought,
Treasured, pleasured or disdained,
To a person,
Of late or present,
To a future of who knows what.

During the day,
The history-of and the future-of talk,
To each,
Of where they were,
And where they hope to be,
The dust is blown off with the wind,
From the east, west, north and south.

The yard sale, the graveyard of the past,
The arena of the present,
Life and death of the sale,
Dance together, coupled,
Where Mine, becomes Yours' while
Gary the Conductor, orchestrates to perfection,
The operatic enjoyment of history,
Buyer meets seller, exchanges
Are made.  As is today.
Bravo! Bravo!

*This poem is dedicated to Gary and Ann Harris of Northville MI USA – May they and 
their Yard Sales age forever!

© Charles H Keys, 2010.  All Rights Reserved.  V1.4.09252010


Details | Free verse | |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...


Details | Tanka | |

LOVE, ANGELS, and MUSIC

LOVE God is always love Forever seek the kingdom; Praise the creator Keep giving what you can give Please endure until the end ANGELS Beautiful Heavens Protecting the meek ones earth Watching over us Helping us to cope with life Comforted with hope and trust MUSIC When you find rhythm You find your hearts inner core Celebrate the times Make them better than before Reminisce and dance all night


Details | Free verse | |

Sometimes

Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer

Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of 
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own 
expectations.

Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me 
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I 
won or lost.
 
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land

Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want

Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.

Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.

Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go

Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward


Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!


Details | Lyric | |

WE ALL DIE

My piety,my poetry ,my love
All are in vain
my music, my love ,my mind
All are running insane

My rhymes are all crooked
I can't write a perfect song
Looks like my life is worthless
my music, my poetry its all gone

Behold the paradox,
In these old rhymes 
living in a worthless life 
All these times 

The music's almost over
just need to turn out the light
I need just one leap
Need to show on last fight

I need to create something
something that makes you feel
the goal isn't to live forever
Its to create something that will


Details | Acrostic | |

Captcha WHA6

When I was only five
Heard mommy always's say
Angel  keep being naughty and you won't make it to
6




Entry for Adam Hapworth's
Captcha Acrostic Contest
G.L. All



Details | Concrete | |

If Children Were Puppies

                                                IF MY
                                            CHILDREN
                                         WERE PUPPIES
                                            THEY’D BE
                                               NICER
                                                  TO
                                                  ME.
                                THEY WOULD NOT BE FUSSY
                        AND            TALK BACK YOU            SEE.                       
                       SIT             BRAVE AND LOYAL           NOT                        
                       TRY             TO RUN AND HIDE.           AND
                                        FAITHFULLY  FOLLOW
                                           NEVER LEAVING
                                            MY SIDE. BUT
                                            IF CHILDREN
                                             WERE PUPS
                                              THEN THEY
                                              MIGHT EAT
                                             LIKE    HOGS
                                            CHEW    YOUR 
                                          GOOD        SHOE   
                                 MAYBE HIDE         YOUR CLOGS
 	    AND IF CHILDREN WERE PUPPIES, THEN WE’D ALL BE DOGS!

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
12.02.2012


Details | Free verse | |

IQ Test

I could care less about the four 
corners of insults, 
That intelligence invites; 
It is always the first straw of 
grass that’s grows, 
which reveals the popular outcast; 
As a youth, I found my image cut down 
into this manufactured silhouette.

Drenched in social rain, my peers 
had never found me more alienated, 
Then when I spoke fluently of diverse 
topics; 
They did everything in their power to provide 
a verbal umbrella, 
However, the texture remains weak and 
defeated.

This stormy parade that remains’ dripping is
indeed an afterthought, 
For within this cranial mansion resides 
additional rooms, 
For the more abstract and surreal 
elements of life; 
It is that secluded gland which reveals 
the renaissance of men, who wear 
infinite Fedoras.

Now wearing the shoes of a young 
man, 
A taste of charisma resides in my 
veins; 
However this slight addiction to external 
haze, 
Comes in second to my first drug of 
choice: Wisdom. 

Membership into this fraternity may take a lifetime; 
So don’t be surprised when resistance 
knocks at your door, 
Intimidated by the lion that dwells within 
your temple; 
Indeed intellect is the misunderstood 
fruit, 
That blossoms sweeter when accepted.


Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


Details | Free verse | |

I Do Believe

"I Do Believe" 

The purpose of LIFE is to {Living In Faith Ever} 
to enrich God within us 
to an optimum level 
so that We as Humans 
can be guided by God 
to fuel out brothers and sisters 
with the same driving force 
to connect with the living God, 
to His existence and 
to See the Invisible, 
Believe the Incredible, and 
to Receive the Impossible 
to our everlasting journey 
to Heaven.

Rev. Samuel Mack
Copyright 2013

http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com


Details | Haiku | |

No Chain, No Charm

In Unison-
~No Chain, No Charm~

United we own
Firm, full of finest goodies-
Our ground of freedom.


United we stand
Firm from failure and horror-
On the ground of strength.

United we pray
Faithfully with open mind-
Our bliss is assured.


Details | Lyric | |

Rhyme XOX

I just want my summertime
To be at a stand still.
Sometimes, when women cross my mind,
I'm not sure just what to feel.

I'd like to call her friend,
And I want us to mean something.
I can find several, yet in the end,
It seems like all I have is nothing.

So where is the evidence
That says I should move forward?
Show me a sign that's heaven sent;
A point I should move toward.



©2013 Honestly JT


Details | Rhyme | |

THE AGING PROCESS

Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.

Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.

Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.

Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.

Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?

Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.

The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.

The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.

Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.

Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.

Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.


Details | Free verse | |

Attawapiskat: Orphans of the Stone and Sky

Salt-bleached roads merge into a horizon
of snow-clouds pregnant with similar shades of gray.

On television sets, the media squawks loudly
about one of the most affluent suburbs in the world
having been touched by flood during the night.
O! We must come together,
help restore the water-damaged basements
of 1.5 million-dollar homes.
Has the Great Mother no sympathy,
as she continues to unleash her stormy wrath?

Behind the back of a 3rd World town
nestled in the bosom of 1st World commodities,
outsiders whisper of possible mismanaged aid,
of faulty tribal council audits,
while on our land, foreign companies break open the earth,
extracting our Mother's vital organs,
selling blood diamonds to the very people 
with water-damaged 1.5 million-dollar homes....
....maybe the sparkle of a new necklace
will assuage the waiting-period of insurance policies.
Yes, people whisper behind our backs 
about the burden of hand-outs,
while our land subsidizes the entire nation.

But self-pity and envy will not serve us true,
for the widely beaten path 
leads towards more conditioned lies and empty eyes.

Above, the burgeoning snow-clouds
are filled with much potential energy
waiting to be released, just as we are.
If we arise from the swampy, damp ashes
as a phoenix whose wings are dried by courage-breath,
we must act with grace,
live by the golden rule,
treat our oppressors with a dignity
not offered to us in the first place.

To settle for less, 
is to settle for a searing brand of Oji-Cree hypocrisy -
the widely beaten path of conditioned lies and empty eyes.
We, the Orphans of the Stone and Sky,
must rise as graceful Warriors,
must rise to not only protect our own future,
but the future of all children.

We arrived from the Stone and Sky with grace,
so shall we live, so shall we depart, 
and again, so shall we return.






.


Details | Free verse | |

Beauty

What is beauty?
Is it only shown on the
outside or is it embedded
beneath the skin?
Many might only see beauty
as what they can see with 
their eyes, thus they make
assumptions as to how
beautiful something is, which
is often foolish.
But some see it both ways
thus creating a clearer
form of what they consider
beautiful.
Mistakes can be made by
judging something by its
cover, like the simple 
picking of a rose but its thorns 
prick your skin almost unexpectedly
causing pain and blood to seep out.
Beauty is something so complicated
that many fail to understand the
word; they are blinded by cruel
and immoral definitions that become
seeded into the mind thus creating
a false and depraved image that only
becomes the meaning of ugliness. 
Beauty is not always on the surface
but more often than not hidden beneath,
like one’s soul; it can’t be seen but
it's known to be there. 
If one can see past the 
incomplete image that the human
mirror reflects, beauty becomes
apparent to all; untarnished
and pure.


Details | Couplet | |

The WIDOW'S DAY

THE WIDOW'S DAY


He’d been dead for forty years
But she carried on each day
Got up at eight and dressed
Ate luncheon on a tray

No bride was kissed as well
No groom felt more complete
And one year was their gift
When Fate served them defeat

She should have followed him
But life grabbed her instead
Who is to say what’s better
The living or the dead

Each day as sun drew low
She tossed a glass of wine
Lolled on the white porch swing
And took a dip through time
His shadow found her then
She touched his rugged face
It emphasized the fact
No one would take his place

And though she craved wild nights--
Cold loneliness was cruel--
she lived her life alone
becoming no man's fool.

Victoria Anderson-Throop
12/30/12  ©


Details | Pantoum | |

You Inspire

I cannot help but smile at the very thought of you
You create an image of loveliness that so inspires
For deep within this man rages a fire burning true
The very thought of you releases new desires

You create an image of loveliness that so inspires
Your face of beauty gives my mind words to write
The very thought of you releases new desires
As poetic fires burn from the flames you so ignite

Your face of beauty gives my mind words to write
So all come together then, neatly and with flow
As poetic fires burn from the flames you so ignite
Your beauty gives my poems light, eternal glow

So all come together then, neatly and with flow
For deep within this man rages a fire burning true
Your beauty gives my poems light, eternal glow
I cannot help but smile at the very thought of you


Details | Free verse | |

Alive

And we are left here Like maggots—dirty, parentless…devastated Always feeding on the gruel…the cruel Fattening our lives in the moneyless bilk Shocking like a bee sting, yet soft as silk We are the forgotten I am watching the others grow rotten But I am cleansed and raw with glee Because…though blinded with slime…I SEE… I rise to the sound of the agonizing screams Of rapes, murders, of violent fists…weeping minds My definition of true finds… I smile when any possible hope arrives Fate laughs, knowing I constantly scream inside I am amused of it all…I can’t stop laughing As bitter tears began to fall I HATE ALL OF YOU… I WANT TO KILL YOU ALL… But I love that I can take anything From the nothing we have all been labeled The sick, the low…the mentally unstable Watch me roll up in a ball A naughty tease to death’s lull I love your silence… I love your intense fall And we are more alive than any of you We are crazed by your belligerence Aching to be emotionless SHARE YOUR INDIFFERENCE SHARE IT… Give us something to be left with So the others can die As Fate veers its head looking in the mirror Listen to her laughter—do you hear her? She watches and waits To find her maggots have grown wings… Screw your selfish indifference...we fall to fly We are more alive than any of you Though quickly we die


Details | Rhyme | |

The Power Within

There is Power in the pen.
There is Power in the voice.
There is Power within the people,
and with responsibility comes choice.

There is power in our cars,
and Power in our homes.
But at times we feel powerless,
at times we feel alone.

When times get tough
and you do not have the Power,
look within yourself,
it will be a Powerful hour.

There is Power in the pen.
There is Power in the voice.
There is Power within the people,
and with responsibility comes choice.


Details | Free verse | |

Searching for Michelangelo

I told him we were broken, the way
horses can be, and he galloped through 
the sentence like a cowboy, less a
heart.  I loosed the biggest word I could 
think of – so enormous I felt everything
in me squeeze back as it passed by
and nearly choked as it pushed 
its way into the outer world -
and he brushed it aside like 
errant dandelion snow. 
By then, there were at least
four voices within me, ranting,
and the image of myself throwing 
buckets of paint against a wall 
was blinking repeatedly in my head.
And still he was talking – 
with his hands gesturing, gesturing -
talking about places he’d been
talking about what he thinks himself
passionate about
talking about what he learned
in counseling
and talking
talking, 
talking
about 

nothing.


When he got to Italy, I stopped him
at Michelangelo, thinking, “here! – 
here finally is a scaffold we can 
throw ourselves off of”.  Thinking 
if Einstein’s wardrobe wasn’t enough, 
if a scrawny white boy singing 
the blues wasn’t either and if the 
most interesting thing I said that night 
was that I never ever set a clock 
to an uneven time (and I hadn’t even 
said that yet)… maybe the image of 
an artist suspended in air with 
his heart pointed to heaven 
and the myriad of thoughts 
that must have run 
like a river through him as he
stood there, arm outstretched,
might trigger something.
But, he had no idea that 
Buonarroti was a poet 
or that he honestly expected 
Moses to speak 
to him once freed 
from the confines 
of stone and of
artist himself,
he said

nothing.

Apparently, he was more 
Moses than Michelangelo, and
it was all I could do 
not to take 
a hammer
to his 
knee.


Details | I do not know? | |

Why Do I Write

Out of all the questions I have been asked in life
None of them stump me more like this:

Why do I write?

It does not stump me because it’s tricky
It stumps me because it’s a stupid question to ask

Why do I write?

Because there’s nothing more relaxing than it.

Sure sometimes it’s frustrating
Difficult, fundamentally challenging
But that’s part of the beauty of it

Letting you emotions spill out across the page
And knowing that people read it
That people expect who you are
It’s brilliant

When you live a life of not speaking up
Of being that quite person in the background
Expressing yourself is… magnificent

I’m not me when I write
Something takes over me, controls me
So much so that I don’t really know what I am writing consciously
But it works so well 

I guess some people will never understand 
The joy in it all

When you're my age and you develop some characteristic
That doesn’t suit the normal criteria you get picked on

It happens, you can’t stop it
But I feel sorry for them

Expressing yourself through writing is one of my greatest joys
And I’m not going to stop
Not now
Not ever 


Details | Rhyme | |

Ghosts Forgotten

This one’s for the addicts in the street
Their poor souls corrupted by the disease
They’ve been where life and death meet
When they are crying down upon their knees

They stare at the laughing people in coffee shops
Wondering how their days ended up so black and rotten
Conniving to get what they need and fleeing the cops
They were normal people only to be ghosts forgotten

If only they could be strong and try to move on
They could find a way to obtain a fresh start
But sadly most of them are already too far gone
It has nothing to do with being dumb or smart

That’s what this disease can do to anyone
And it’s not because they don’t love or don’t care
Sometimes addiction has just simply won
I know all of this because I was once there

I was once a thief, a liar, and a loser
And I’m not proud of the awful things I’ve done
I was a hopeless substance abuser
But a new and wonderful life for me has begun

And honestly the cravings still come for me
They whisper in my ear and try to drag me back down
The temptation will come and it will always be
You just have to fight for your own golden crown

If you have a loved one struggling with addiction
Keeping fighting, don’t give up on them ever again
If you do you will only be aiding in their conviction
Of a long and painful life of despair until their end

If they finally grow strength and try to get clean
Don’t let your hopeful heart collapse
When they fall back into a relapse
That is what happens, despite what you ween

This is a subject I write about a lot
Only because I’ve been through it all
And the lesson that I’ve been taught
Wasn’t learned in a school or study hall

I was about to lose everything I held so dear
My girlfriend, my friends and my mother
Hell, I did lose something dear, my brother
But I woke strength inside and faced my fear

Don’t let your fond memories turn to cotton
Keeping trying and support your ghost forgotten

Remember the ghosts forgotten


Details | Rhyme | |

Foreign Languages

Hearing conversations
Spoken in a foreign tongue
Serves as a reminder of
The folks we live among.

Immigrants from distant shores
Residing where we live
Add a little spiciness
With all they have to give:

Hints of other cultures,
Both alluring and exotic;
Customs that we might just find
A tiny bit quixotic.

When I hear people talking
In a language rich and strange,
I wonder at the meaning of
The words that they exchange.

It’s like a secret code to which
I do not have the key,
And likely what they’re saying
Doesn’t have to do with me.

Yet still, if we could comprehend
A language not our own,
Perhaps the world would cease to be
A xenophobic zone.


Details | Free verse | |

Low complexity

Her face,
Lipstick smudged on one side,
Lopsided blush,
Loose earring.

Humming a song as she goes,
Slower than it was written,
Squished into one octave,
Simple song, simple minded.

Folding laundry on a Saturday morning,
Watching the other machines and counting down the minutes,
Staring at the rotation of reds and blues.

Returning to an empty home,
Picking up the phone,
Calling her mom in the complex,
Singing the song she’d rehearsed,
Warm giggles,
Heart to heart. 


Details | Sestina | |

A Thousand Paper Cranes: sen-zu-baru

     A thousand paper cranes fly towards the crimson sun,
     bringing with them prayers a billion times strong
     Beautiful winged wishes born from love.
     Where the earth shattered, it only empowered souls 
     Where the waters overflowed, it only buoyed hope
     Like water lilies floating, pink and alive with blossom


Amidst the rubble, acts of courage would blossom
spreading…blinding…as bright as the sun
Drying tears of fear as they are replaced with hope
This bravery never waned, it actually grew strong
as they staunchly picked up pieces, unified souls
Facing the chaos, tied together with love


      No words can truly capture it, except maybe for love?
      Of how tenacity just continued to blossom
      That despite mind-numbing dread that enveloped souls,
      that even if it seemed that there was only bleeding sun,
      compassion for others did not waver, remained strong
      Lives given for others, in the name of love, sparking hope 


Death may have cloaked the land, but there is always hope
seeping through the crevices, and reaching out to love
which in turn reflect on eyes, keeping that bond strong…
It goes beyond broken shores, to all hearts that blossom
Watered by tears of faith and courage from the Land of the Rising Sun
Quenching the thirst brought by grief, refreshing souls


      Amazing how shattered lines can flow into souls,
      Winding around each one, tethered by hope
      Distance doesn’t matter, since all breathe under the same sun,
      swim in the same sea of worries, yet energized by love
      At the moment of impact, lives got broken, crushing blossom
      As the world stood still for them, they stood proud and strong


The earth buckled, the waters heaved but the people remained strong
There was calm and peace shining through all the beautiful souls
Muddied brown waters pave the way for the glorious lotus blossom
bursting forth, sprinkling seeds of hope
Pain comes in many different forms, but it can also give birth to love
Lighting up lives, so rise and shine brightly, Japan…Land of the Rising Sun


      These thousand strong paper cranes were folded with care and hope,
      each crease a testament to the tenacity of souls, the power of love
      May peace blossom in hearts, let these cranes soar forever, and fuel the Sun



*I have a senryu of the same title though :)...
winged wishes 
 folded in prayer and love... 
a thousand paper cranes
---for Debbie's Tribute to Japan contest :)


Details | Narrative | |

Just for Me

In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away


Details | Rhyme | |

Thank you

Thank you – Zamreen Zarook

Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.

Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.

People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.

Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.


Details | Free verse | |

LOVE

Loyalty
One self
Virtuous
Eternity