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Best Conflict Poems

Below are the all-time best Conflict poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of conflict poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Family Conflict by Madsen, Stuart
Conflict within my heart by Muideen, Afolabi
Conflict of the Soul by Lanier, Bo
Conflict of Interest by Martsolf, Dave
COURAGE VS CONFLICT by Walker , Verlena S.
Life: The Conflict Within by Wallace, Charles
Conflict between heart and mind by WATSON, DARREN
Conflict of Interest by Horn, James

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The Best Conflict Poems

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Wind From The Sea

Inspired by Andrew Wyeth Watercolor Painting -- Wind From the Sea, 1947

Standing in the old house
A strange mixture of feelings erupt within me
My roommates Depression, Loneliness, and Hopelessness
Greet me with strangling arms and leering grins
I don’t fight them anymore – somehow they are a part me
So together, in this house, in this room
We endure the somber solitude of the day

A sudden chill fills the room
Death enters – its foul breath chokes me
My three companions prostrate themselves
Pressure builds in my bowels
Bile rises in my throat
A heavy weariness fills my bones
He’s calling – hissing my name
I can’t breath

Death surrounds my soul – crushing me 
I hear groaning  . . .
Strange guttural sound -- it’s coming from me
Deep painful darkness fills me
I beg Death to take me . . .

Through the open window
A gush of wind enters
A sheer curtain hanging comes to life
It’s spirit lifts inwards and up beckoning me to dance 

What is this wonder?
A limp ragged curtain – faded, stained, frail -- has life
Reaching toward me . . .  frayed fingers of thread motioning
Old friends rush to me – Joy, Hope, Love
Death’s grip slips – I gasp a breath
Looking up I see the open window
Boarded by old bare wood, hard with age

I realize it’s daylight now – soft shadows 
A curving road leading to the water
I can taste the saltiness in the wind
Trees in the distance
A calling from the sea
Seagulls, waves, laughter

Joy breaths into my nostrils 
Leave this place – Depression cannot hold you
Simple pleasures I will give you
   Cool breeze on a summer afternoon
   Laughter of friends
   A walk in the garden
   A book
   The Sea . . . 

Depression laughs in my ears
Through that window lies heartache, treachery, poverty, misery
It will chew your insides up – blood will pour from your lips
Pain and suffering awaits if you leave this house
Death waits to take you home 
An end to this constant noise – the peace of total emptiness 

Another breeze and Hope fills my eyes with light
I see colors – vibrant alive filling me with warmth
Leave this place, take a journey to the sea
Let light fill you and be your guide . . . see -- opportunities abound
For laughter, love, forgiveness . . . for life – abundant life
See the rainbow upon the Sea

Hopelessness rushes toward me
Kisses my lips and whispers
Light burns and blinds
Enslaves you
They will see clearly your secrets
Spotlight focus – ridicule scorn . . . ugly disgust . . .  self-hatred

Love rushes in and embraces me
Light, fresh, empowering
My heart leaps with pleasure
Arm and arm she leads me to the window
Much pain and sorrow – yes . . .  also Love
A powerful love that transforms, refreshes . . . frees
Breathe deeply of the Sea air – fill your lungs
Go – you are loved deeply and completely

Looking out Looking in

David Meade

Live Generously

Copyright © David Meade

More great poems below...

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Death of the Poet Destroyer

~The Untold Fatal Attraction Poem~

Mid-morning she sees the sun ahead
Her death flowed in a messaged bottle
Gazing into her brown eyes upon all open sores,
Her conscience dark and gray a never-ending war!
A giant cyclone of a thousand thoughts swirled around this little girl.
Inflicting away the pain, through the comfort of others pen
The way she twisted and twisted life’s perception was out of her control
Inside she knew the glass slipper was never hers to show off
She is baring nothing but a tainted pen, walking throughout eternity’s sand
A prosecutor of misdeeds, accomplishing what, without knowing the way
Departing from her fractured self, she begins to slip into a righteous form,
Twirling her twilight's pen like a baton, spinning it to one final stand
She awakens in a dream, where her sadness does not allow the light to reform
Her body is weak and pale against the birth of her undying sun
Staring down into the deepness of every-bodies abyss
Inside all souls is where she felt lighter, than the retarded sun gives
A crimson sky follows her just to reveal her diminished soul,
A life of shunning out the city glow will always dwell deep inside her
Sleeping under society as one, insulting the taste of innocent blood
Forgetting the vengeance, in a dimension where the pen is mightier than the sword
How did she let it come to this?
In one feeling she fell in love with the spirit of the living rhyme 
Watching from a cave, with a diabolical look
Refusing to grasp the self - nature and kill off the destroyer's will
A price beyond this enigmatic world, craving to be just like them
Condemning her meaning to a blasphemy of white butterflies
Destroying her poetic meaning that was destined to dance a tangle of endless rage
In love with the essence of her deceased will
She clings on to the dimness and brilliance at the same time
All corpses lost beyond the girl in question,
Sympathetic in a bizarre language, she mutters out sweetness
Her heart mended, recognizing all the adoration and poetic addiction
Exchanging the real terror, fixated by the life force of her poetic destruction
Giving birth to a new revelation
Now she will never deceive her love for the making of true art,
Not wanting to belong in this wretched world with her destroying criteria,
Her soul sails looking for a new era where love will no longer generate
As she loathes the love and decides not to destroy this generation with hate

At last, longing this one day with the angel of death
With a closing teardrop, one last thought
My death will not be the end; only the ascension~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Your Judas Like Tan

""Child's Play""

You go down like rain,
A wishing star in disguise, 
You cry bloody murder 
-the perfect two face of disgrace
Your lips forever stain and reside with Benedict A 
Your eyes hide the truth, like an unseen domain in space 

Darling, that never cut what bleeds from a mother's heart
My precious doll, your feathers are in mourning like a flightless dove
Is this to be love, standing there while I fall apart
Our younger years, display nothing but love,
Like the wonder years, you will remain more precious than a stone 
From one betrayal, right after another, a heart colder than winters zone
That never counts as a failure, when it comes to unconditional love
Darling, this pain and secrets were never yours to absorb alone 

"My sweet darling, Let me hold you once more!"

My beautiful girl, the nights grow random like sin 
Your mind's fast at switching grapes on a vine 
Fault, from a mother to son, too much exposure from the sun
Insanity and sin remain, from a mother to daughter 
Soaking in salt that protects me from your loaded gun
A shameful way to sunbathe your skin like a shooting star
My beautiful daughter, you put my heart behind bars

My dearest cry baby, you're all grown up these days
Sweetheart, I don't see you running home
These towels will not dry
The feeling of fresh flowers floats from the center of my core

Your man made drama, spread out every window and doorway
Leaving the light to reach the floor
-- Once again the sun, has revealed your Judas like tan
Your tears have fallen, one too many times
Here we are, covering every bruise
Raising every brow in hope everything's gone
Darling, no one will love you like I do
I still whisper your name and wish life had nothing to lose

Sweet darling, your eyes are rolling dice
A small roll of dominoes misleading everyone the wrong way
This time I can't cover your mistake with a blanket, 
My little darling, you have gone too far
Your paper dolls aren't cutting smiles from this frown
I've always known your the Iscariot, 
Selling your soul for a simple quarter
These tears were never yours to sell for at the end
Our sins will have more weight than a thousand pounds of gold

My beautiful darling, I forgive you, every day, 
I want you to know, I'm Sorry about the things I had to say
I don't understand how easily you trampled our bed of roses
Posting over the moon in your treason white gown

Darling, Mommy wants you to understand
The voice of reason was for your own good
The knife in my back is rusted
The father clock continues to stand still
Sweet child, the allusion you left behind faded long ago
Contradicting your life with your infamous pretty face logo

My dearest cry baby!
Why the tan lotion, where's your sense of guilt?
Is this another game of child's play?
Darling, it's time to put them toys away

"My Sweet Darling, I need to hold you once more."

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Fifty-Three Shades Of Grey

in the uncoloured tint of another everyday amongst the spit polished waxed apples tightly packed in burlap bags they walked like minded in their own burly wrap oblivious to the irony to their similarity of the markets round red fruit unaware of the tragedy the horror of events yet to come it will rain metal shrapnel as human minds grasp with the purpose of their existence as in their ignorance they understand their worth as human bombs with a belief the heavens will open the gates with a fanfare and a promised blessing for their divine act of unquestioned belief the clay shaped bricks the black iron metal stairs the drum sound of engines then the lull not after but before before the pulse of the storm the rain of death yet this moment captured this photograph with man and child in hand smells sweet you wonder bemused why? the world travels aimlessly singularly no one nothing in the universe suggests exposes even a hint even a glimpse not a clue that would lead reveal an answer. life in its contradiction like the proverbial apple offers both the miracle the curse.

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Details | Conflict Poem | |


~It's Out There~

Green colored field 
A flower without the sun 
Wilts from distrust 
now washed away 
by the man storm


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Conflict Poem | |


Walls of silence hold,
 Me prisoner,
The child held within,
 Cries out for release.
Relative solitude comforts, 
Not the tortured soul,
Inward coiling withdrawing,
 Deep inside. 
Shedding its outer skins,
Layer thus preserving its,
 Inner being.
Innocents shroud lies in ruins.
Gentle spirit, cast aside wings,
 Damaged appendages.
The fallen angel kneels in,
Shadows before mankind.
Unanswered prays rest upon,
 Deaf ears.
Muted sobs, echo on stilled,
 Winds breath.
Hardening to stone, the
 Chilled heart
 Reflects frozen repose.
Forgotten amongst mine own,
Childhood symbolizes a betrayed,
 Victim’s refuge.
Small fragile hands reach out,
 Into nothingness,
Hollow space grasping into,
Chained shackles twist,
 Imaginations warped view,
Somber tones cloud troubled,
Amidst life's trials, I'm aimlessly,
Without any form of stability.
I, alone remain shambles,
Displaced and damaged,
Beyond repair.
A broken doll thrown away,
By those who should have, 
Cared for her the most.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Conflict Poem | |

My Song

~Not Like Me~ 

When you were first put into my arms, 
I begged God, to make you nothing like me 
For my sins, ask for no transformation 
This is my song, my meditation 

Look at my face 
Where has it gone, 
You no longer desire to be part of my song 

Look at my life, 
The toll hasn't been paid 
I'm the one suffering every day 

The vengeance of eternal flames, 
   sit near the empty hearth 
Burning my needs to hold you once more, 
I need you more than you'll ever know 

Now, Look at me, at the age of 73 
I have nowhere to go 
Everyone I know awaits in a place of gold 
Unlike you, you're too busy, proud and bold 
------ A different song!!! 

I sing a song, that accentuate's the mind, 
I have no one to blame, I neglected all the signs 
Hoping the rain would slowly die off 

Today here I lay, wondering where I went wrong 
I implored God, to cause you nothing like me 
I have a heart that forgives, and tries to forget 
I kneel, and I give, and I treat others with respect 
My compassion, I measured in the poorest way 

I judged my life worse than the others did 
Why did I ask ---- Not Like Me! 
For my sins, ask for no translation 
This is my song, my speculation 

The dreaded conclusion of this song, 
All I can say, "Be careful what you ask for." 
In the end, all I can say, I got what I asked for 
Someone, who's Not Like Me...................... 

By: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Among Butterflies Sought

Is This Nature's Glory As a quarry? Alone and at peace A life, a new lease I pull up a piece of land Take a little time to mend This rainforest trembles An open window in shambles Sitting on my own made porch I fire up a configured torch  Then Lay under, should I say What is like a porch light ray And I wait for that one moth Amongst butterflies sought An unwanted reject Like me ready to eject Take me now in this lush With the roar of death; a hush And I will go, amongst this gift Gods Eden unquestioned; my lift My life to stop the bleeding of the land So I protect this marvel, hold her hand Never can't So I chant Let me meld Forest held Me alone a window into the future slightly opened We are all just a moth drawn to a porch light penned  13~11~2014 Sponsor : craig cornish Contest Name : Chopped II ********************************************************* I believe this falls within the 10 to 20 line loose suggestion. This is usually done by the sponsor because it would be difficult to read 35 epic poems and rate them. Because I wanted to create a shape if you count lines as they line up I have more then 20. If I realigned them I would have much less than 20. I believe I stayed within the spirit of the rules. However that is and should be in the hands of the sponsor. I worked very hard towrite this piece for this contest. I loved the process. I have already accomplished everything I wanted to do with this write. I watch the show Chopped all the time.The idea is to be creative with the ingredients. If there is a steak in the basket you better not just cook a steak. The point of the show is using the ingredients creatively never do the obvious. I am happy to have written this piece inspired by the contest. So thank you Craig because I am proud of this write. However below is the ten to twenty line alternative in case you would rather judge it. ********************************************************** Chopped Too - A Rainforest This rainforest trembles An open window in shambles Sitting on my own made porch I fire up a configured torch  Then Lay under, should I say What is like a porch light ray And I wait for that one moth Amongst butterflies sought An unwanted reject Like me ready to eject Take me now in this lush With the roar of death; a hush And I will go, amongst this gift Gods Eden unquestioned; my lift My life to stop the bleeding of the land So I protect this marvel, hold her hand Me alone a window into the future slightly opened We are all just a moth drawn to a porch light penned  13~11~2014 Sponsor : craig cornish Contest Name : Chopped II

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Details | Conflict Poem | |


People walk in and out, 
Through me, it seems,
My presence barely sensed.
I coil around the pain,
And recoiling I make my way out, 
Heaving relief into the dark.
Around me, night crawls about like a baby, 
The moon, with arms outstretched, 
Cradles me gently, lovingly.
And feeling a large crack in the universe
I am swallowed whole
And taken home.

Copyright © Charles Hamouth

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Her Masterpiece Is Her Story

Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.

One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.

She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?

No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.

Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.

Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.

She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.

She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.

Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...

That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.

Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.

Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.

This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.

Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.

She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.

He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.

Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people, 
who saw her cries for help.

And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.

She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.

Copyright © Madison Marie

Details | Conflict Poem | |

I Am A 4

President Barack Obama
Credited for getting Osama
Now along comes Isis
"Lord help me, another crisis!"

path - 12/1

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Nightmares and Razor Blades

I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death, 
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade, 
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound 
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me. 
I count to three,
I put the blade to my wrist.
I start to add pressure.
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop, 
But there's no going back now. 
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost, 
Lost and angry. 
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.

Copyright © Mackenzie Lakin

Details | Conflict Poem | |

She by the Sea

I see the pain
Reflected via turquoise blue
Of the oceans hue
She stares out into the oceans depth
Her lover dead under the sea
The waves have made her destiny

I stare at her
From a hill above the shore
Her pain cripples me such
That I can not move

How can I love this woman so
The small of her back
Invites me to hold her
Caress her tears into the sea

The salt water offers comfort
Massaging her feet
The sun glitters with hopeful endeavors
That neither of us feels at all

I am in love with this woman
Since a wee child long ago
Her pain is my pain
Yet my guilt I carry alone

We both will stand hand in hand
To bury her husband
My brother

As I keep secret my love and desire
Only wishing her sadness to ebb
Into the sea that took hold of part of me
My brother I loved and honored

So on the hill above the shore
I stare at the woman I always adored
Oh brother forgive me my thoughts
As I wish to comfort your lovers broken heart

Copyright © arthur vaso

Details | Conflict Poem | |


There was change, a new pulse, cadence, and tone, where mother had been, the only place I had known Where two maples stretched out, to cradle my dreams, and shelter my life, in the house I called home On a make-shift bed, I was lying awake, Windows cracked open, a wind coming in, .... Intangible nights, in the familiar old room, alone with my thoughts, while sorting out things... There was a strange, jaundice glow, from the porch light, left on, and my pillow felt cold, where the moon used to go The sound of a moth, batting wings against glass, was begging for warmth, while seeking to ask, a place that made sense And a place to fit in My father was sleeping, with his newlywed bride in the same sacred bed, where my mother had died And a new child was dreaming in the soft yellow room where I spent all those nights, ... just me and the moon I was happy for him, and for the child that he gained. I was there at his side, when the changes became.. a part of his life, ...... a part of mine too But, I was lost in the amber, like a moth batting wings Somehow, it's alright, now, where shadows are new. As the sepia light, has changed and renewed I am older, and stronger, much older than then,... Although, still a moth seeking flame... batting my wings, resisting the change, ....again, and again
__________________________________ For Craig Cornish's Contest: "Chopped II" 11/3//14

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Maybe The Last Letter To My Beloved

My heart?
You have always owned that,
I'm surprised you didn't know.

Its flow?
How do I explain without being unkind,
simply, its flow is mine.

There's the barb, my vision puts me on a different flight
I own a non redeemable ticket...a ticket I clutch.

Love and age walk hand in hand.
I've had my sunrise...walking with resolve to my sunset.
I spent too much of my time trying to reach the horizon 
now, happy to enjoy the sky's perfect joint with its mate.

Searching for that pot of gold? Some do...but not me.
That sort live with regret. They chased the lie, missed the rainbow.
Not I...I am happy to enjoy the and invigorating.

My heart? You own that. You always will.

At the fork...recently, I chose a different path.
I've looked behind me, I've looked ahead...I'm sorry, my love,
I just don't see you there.


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Details | Conflict Poem | |

This Buds For You

-This buds for you!-
-It takes one to know one!-
-I know you are, but what am I?-

A second hand, on my stopwatch, going nowhere!
You are a joker, a smoker, a midnight stroker  
<-------How, about that, Steve Miller song

I'm not here to talk about the way you comment a poem
That's not how I roll, now listen, and listen well, 

I don't care, about them words you speak
A whining sheep, every time you don't score
Crying behind close doors, 
Boo-Who, I did not place high in so-and-so's contest
Gosh&dammit, not everyone's on a quest
Blogging, about the day, your poem got demoted to nonsense
Trying to comment relentlessly, 
You can't top, a mountain that has no setup

I'd rather leave a copy paste comment, 
"than being fake as fake can be"
At least, my copy paste was a song, 
in which welcome the new poets on
Treating, everyone with love and security
Your invites, are cold and force, to you it's not about community
No motion, to your notion, simple, and disgusting

I don't know why you think, we are competing, 
Long ago, I left you bleeding, no reason to be defeating
Your paranoia, has you thinking, it's all about the points,
It's getting old and boring,
You cry babies are nothing more than jokes and hypocrites
Hey you, this ain't dominoes, we done pass every Jo-Jo
When, I have time I sit here for fun, my trigger finger on the gun

Reading, commenting, until my day is done
You think, because someone, left a copy paste 
That your poem was not read,
Perhaps, it was not understood, or enjoyed
Or, a welcome to the neighborhood
A nice smile, from me to you
Nice poem, You Rock!
So What! ---- WOW!

This Bud's for you
I think it's time for you to GET A LIFE!
Be glad someone took their time, in checking you out twice
Not, everyone on this site, is full of bull-shit
The smallest words, are more likely to be legit 
I don't need and expensive comment, 
I don't want to impress, when it comes to the best comment
Please do not make love to my poem!

A nice pat on my back will do, 
Now that my friend, puts a smile on my face
To know you care, to know you were there:)

Peace Out,


Copyright © SKAT A

Details | Conflict Poem | |

White Picket Fence

Featuring: SCRAP METAL
Fresh sand garments 
The Mental Colosseum floor
Self infliction's--waging wars 


A mask, tiny holes
Breathing heavily
Dancing around my toes
Broad carbon steel
Safe behind my will
Equipment of revenge
Fencing the world with my eyes

I bow, with the morning dew,
 My mind a dual in its own world.
When the curtains lift,
I prepare myself with a weapon--   
Epee Crest to protect my chest
A sword sharper than  fangs
I circle my blade around the door knob 
Ready to face the world 
Practicing --in hopes today I won't retreat

“Fencers ready!"
A magical knightress
Painted in white
"Let's dance!"


Queen Amri  "VS" The Damsel 
Wishing it was over
Stainless steel echoes
“Every poke counts”
 Hoping & Taking
No room to disengage   ---I retreat
Peacefully I secure my stance 
On Guard!
I lean in, I disengage  ---I flee
Back again, I lunge 
The Queen is to smart to retreat
I -Amri, parry away from the argument of the lunge.
Recoil & Double tapped
In and out….. I'm struck
Back to the drawing board
On guard, I stand like a statue
Out of breath; feels like i’m dying
Yet I am still fighting.
The Queen knows what to do.   
I Yield, She Wins!

Raising our foils 
---At the on guard of another day

I move in swiftly, cutting like razor blades
Using refreshed energy
24 / 7 
I attack, She provokes!
Sand runs its course
Victorious against the queen
Touch – tied – triumph -- Touché
Standing on my own 2 feet

I am the 
-Grand Finale Show-
Conquering The Battles Inside
-I WIN!-


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Conflict Poem | |



I've been shedding snakeskin...
so blind
I've been destroying the noise
my worst enemy

Deconstructing my identity 
soaking shoulder deep
in oceans of humility 
feasting upon fruits of tranquility

breaking shackles  
freeing ankles
from bloody mud puddles 
razor blade anxiety

rising to a  place 
where yesterday 
flees irrelevant 
is insufficient 

this moment 
right now...
forever remains
a fearless paradise

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Conflict Poem | |

The Maid of Orleans

Reflecting in her garden sits a winsome little maid;
She holds a purple flower like the circlet that she made
And wrapped about her braids to grace her forehead like a crown;
Her thick and shining braids that are the shade of chestnut brown.
A soft and dreamy smile lifts her lips of cherry rose
As she so elegantly lifts the flower to her nose
To smell the rich and heady fragrance rising from its soul-
Upon this day in early May, her heart with joy is full.
But look! The heavens open wide, and joy is changed to fear,
For Michael the Archangel in the garden does appear,
And with him stand Saint Margaret and Saint Catharine, sent to seek
This girl of twelve, and in her frightened youthful ears to speak
Words form the Lord, of how someday, somehow, she'll have to save
Her native land, her land of France, from lying in the grave.
When in their bright angelic garb these saints to heav'n returned,
She knew they had been sent from God, her heart within her burned
With strong desire, with heaven's fire, to do her Father's will;
Her heart beats hard, while all around is silent, calm and still.

The years pass by, now seventeen, her hour is fully come,
And what is now but distant fancy, dull and throbbing hum
Will be her life, her joy, her pain; her darkness or her light:
For God and country, king and freedom, must, she must needs fight.
The chains of England must be broken, young prince Charles crowned:
A source of hope, of inspiration must for France be found;
For civil war rakes raging claws through weary, hopeless men,
Who fight and die, and sacrifice, and lose their homes again;
Their gardens, flocks and herds, and treasures, all are swept away:
With nothing left but life itself, and naught to do but pray.

God heard their prayer and sent her there for their deliverance,
To lead them on to victory through every circumstance
Of treachery or deviltry that loomed on every side.
Urged on by all the saints above and martyrs who had died,
She bound her armor to her body, helmet to her head;
A troop of eager soldiers to the Orleans siege she led.
Without a fear she faced the battle, banner held up high;
It filled each fainting heart with spirit, waving in the sky:
Unfailing, never falling, always standing at the fore,
And filling every weary soul with courage to the core.
Though wounded by an arrow striking close beside her heart,
She still pressed on to victory, she played her vital part.
The Maid of Orleans did her best, she held back not at all,
But risked her life at every turn to heed her heav'nly call;
She fought and bled and braved the beast until her king was crowned,
And even then she carried on, she traveled all around:
Each city gained broke off the chains of power-hungry kings,
Who killed to gain another's land, his citizens and things.

Alas! She met her fate at hands that should have helped her cause;
The countrymen she battled sold her to be judged by laws
And men that all disfavored her, yet still she firmly stood,
Proud head held high, two gleaming eyes; she answered best she could
Each twisted question meant to trap her clear but simple mind:
With wit and art she answered each; they really could not find
A cause for death, but death must be for such an enemy
The fate; who sees such visions full of vile heresy,
Of saints and angels revelating mortals with God's plan.
They also charged her with the sin of dressing like a man,
But it was of necessity she donned a soldier's guise;
For all throughout the war-torn realm roamed pairs of hateful eyes
Who did not heed a woman's cries, but did what pleased them best:
They killed or maimed or stained for life from eastern France to west.

So thus it is, not twenty years, they chain her to a stake-
The final chain that no amount of bravery can break.
Within her dress, hugged to her chest, she tucks a wooden cross;
The symbol of the Son of God, who faced such early loss
Of life, and like her was betrayed and mocked and led to die
Without a cause, without a crime, without a reason why.
Ten thousand people press around; she feels the burning heat,
As flames grow hotter, ever hotter- licking at her feet:
But on one thing and one thing only both her eyes are fixed;
Upon the figure held before her- on the crucifix.
And she is thinking of a time that seems so long ago,
When as a girl she used to sit and watch her garden grow;
She'd pick the purple petaled flowers, braid them in her hair;
Her life was simple, pure, and sweet, she hadn't any care
Until Saint Michael gave her calling to her way back then.
But if she had another life, she'd do it all again,
For God and country, king and freedom she could die this death;
And so it was that thus she died, and with her final breath
Her soul and body parted ways, and while her body burned,
Her soul went on to realms unknown, her soul to heav'n returned
Into the hands of He who made her, to the arms of Christ the Lord;
Who made for her a better body, more than just restored.
Here ends the troubles of this maiden, gone are jail cells dark:
Forever live the Maid of Orleans, known as Joan of Arc.

{Written by Isaiah Zerbst. For the first time published on October the 13th, 2014.}

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

Details | Conflict Poem | |

The Secret

The Secret
Somewhere someplace not far away a couple lied together.
No talk about the future no talk about forever.
They had lovers of their own their lovers were not there.
It's best if kept a secret the love that they would share.

Lost in loves great passion covered in each others sweat.
They're going to have a baby but they don't know it yet.
In nine months the baby born a secret softly cries.
So much still for him to learn of life conceived in lies.

Often he just played alone it seemed it was his way.
Then one day the secret was sent outside to play. 
He grew strong like others did he gave it all his best.
Without one clue he never knew the truth beat in his chest.

Overwhelmed again and again the sadness he can't shake.
The devil whispered in his ear “You are a mistake”.
Still he tried through tears he cried to somehow rise above.
Getting lost time and again in his search for love.

When the walls came crashing down his whole world fell apart.
Welcome to the world of secrets and to your broken heart.
Shattered like a piece of glass his dreams fell to the ground.
Somewhere up near heaven even angels heard the sound.

Tears poured from his heart and soul through both day and night.
Searching for some healing in words that he would write.
Broken in so many ways all he meant for good.
Forever somehow secret where some misunderstood.

Now he walks in shadows seeking shelter from the rain.
Don't you dare look in his eyes you'll get lost inside his pain.
Like the secret long ago he spends his time alone.
It seems being by himself is now his comfort zone.

Asking nothing from no one wanting only just to give.
The only dream he still dreams is live and just let live.
A million miles on his heart and tears that he still cries.
So it is for secrets and those conceived in lies.
Edwin C Hofert

Copyright © Edwin Hofert

Details | Conflict Poem | |



darling clementines
are little oranges in a box
or one woman
who left me twice
boxed in my little room

my little room
is where i try to forget
that face i loved
no doors    no windows
totally boxed in

times are tough
it’s not just the money
i’m in a box
no doors    no windows
trying to forget your sweet face

lying abed
dream    dream    dreaming
in my cozy box
looking up at a ceiling
painted with moon and stars

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Dead Men Do Tell Tales

Dead Men Do Tell Tales

 I saw, the rot of sad, deep selfish desires,
 burning endlessly in clever fires
 Piles of cash a tall mountain high
 stolen by those that cleverly steal and lie
 six lying days every week , 
 while they race into church pretending 
 to be ever so mild and meek

 The preacher crying all to give so much more
 while he lives in a mansion with a golden door
 drunks living with no other life
 have sacrificed family and wife
 naked women on the the street,
 selling their pride and body like meat
 hustlers getting rich selling poisonous dope
 as they hang themselves with an evil rope

 I looked for solace and found there was none
 just endless cowards crying on the run
 A world teaching wrong is so damn right
 blind monkeys never seeing the light
 dancing in fruitless trees,
 tree-rats eating with relish their rotting cheese

 Looking for Spring to bring life anew
 I too am blind and without a damn clue
 a fool holding onto a false hope
 on a tight leash and even shorter rope

 Where is the miracle we each think can come
 we see it shining there for some
 A treasure glaring in the glimmering Sun
 gifted not stolen by guile and a gun
 So I finally turned to family for relief
 ease my Soul, winter in my long lost belief
 that Life must give us all a saving line
 other than more food when we sit to dine

R.J. Lindley
Nov 9th, 1984

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Conflict Poem | |


Yesterday, I followed her true invisible form
Colors turning a kaleidoscopic deep and warm

A state of mind, that makes reality feel alive
Stabbing moments that teach how tough it is to survive
And still this dagger is penetrating into my back real slow
Sweeping away the grimace under the rug in a one woman show 

Illusive dreams asking for more and more
Sinking with doom, as karma sways through heaven's door
There she keeps her walk on stilts avoiding kismet
Removing every single footprint before sunset

Spending eternity planning the bliss we cannot see
Quenching my confidence, with a moisture that pleasures me
Arching a dirty deed, aiming all fingers that point at me
Spreading her demonic ecstasy, a mass of light weight, we can't see

A giggle-some laugh, I cannot hear
Tainted, in a nefarious way as the night disappears
Delighted, she glistens through the celestial world alone
A whisper of love with an impossible auspicious tone

Epic and exquisite, she works incognito striking whomever she wants
She Is The Enigma!" She Is the Illness~ that forever haunts
A mysterious lady whose perception flows with her own timeless oasis
An Empress is working on her own simplicity basis

My body impervious to react to conflicts that dwell with deep desire
Aggressively my defiant ways will allow her excessive universe to transpire
Like a lily we give in to the beauty of her empress exploding ravenous lust
It's magical and feeds off of the revenge that deepens with thrust

Down in the lilac valley, storming down like a glacier leaving nothing below
We caress we emerge, then we dust off the repellent of her forsaken glow
Leaving us with wounds, when our conflicts ricochet
Impacting us with a rebound when everything bounces back our way

She Springs in like a breeze that dwells and leaves gallivant
Past shadows, swing back with a darker chant
Leaving nothing but a Chinese Aster garden terrace
Her crown, sheer vixen and vigor with Victoria's fantastical lace

Her candle desalinate effect with a gentle glow
Everything to her is an issue with the results that come and go
Karma's punishments sail real slow, against the wind, waged by the zephyr
Rebuilding from the aftermath of, Karma's payback splenetic weather

Close your eyes and feel the consequences we embrace
Secretly every wage comes with reward from our hubris sin
A grasp with no escapes from the repercussion and deeds in our hearts
Doors spillover, in a significant unexplained phenomenal start


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Paranoid love

Tell me that this fear is just paranoia in my mind, 
we're not straining, we're not struggling, 
we're not sinking, we're just fine. 
I'm not perfect my dearest, but damn have I tried, 
and I'll try harder but I know I'll have the same results every time. 
Do you want me all the ways that I am? 
With all the struggles and the tears and the clinging to your hand. 
I fear your getting further and Im left on the shore to stand, 
watching you in the distance with a bullet in my hand. 
Tell me all this worry, its just clutter in my mind, 
tell me not to worry that we're doing just fine. 
Cause Im scared to run you off and I feel Im falling deep. 
And Im so frightened of these thoughts that its getting hard to sleep.
All I know is that the heart wants what it desires, 
because of you the match inside has turned into a fire. 
And I feel the broken glass thats sticking from my skin, 
Wondering if you'll remove the pain or push it back in. 
My hearts frantic wondering if you feel the same, 
pleading and begging for more than just a saying, 
but to feel and to see that im not alone, 
with being in this love thats overwhelming. 
Once I told you that we didnt have a spark, 
but you were lighting up and I was sitting in the dark. 
And this fire, this blaze its wrapped in desire. 
Im terrified to lose you, I think I might die or, 
maybe disappear from all the pieces falling out, 
im going crazy but when i open my mouth, nothing comes out, 
and I cant explain to you why I just need to hold you close, 
why every time you leave Im scared to let you go, 
why these tears are building up behind my eyes, 
all I know is that the heart wants what it desires 
and it desires to be your wife. 
So tell me in my panic, that your words are true, 
tell my my dearest what I mean to you, 
tell me that this paranoia is all within my mind 
we're not struggling, we're not sinking tell me we're just fine

Copyright © Jay Loveless

Details | Conflict Poem | |

Fighting God

You promised to take care of me like a new cherished bride I cling to it, waiting until at the point of suicide now your expectations and my anger collide because your blessings seem to always find a place to hide I try to be my own guide then you caution me and call it pride very little, you want me to decide and you say I’ll be okay by just being on your side I’m tired and have kept all these talk aside following my own path and taking my ride my self belief has beaten faith landslide everything about you in me must suffer a genocide your rules and ordinances, no more will I abide if serving you comes with trials then I wish my loyalty had long died and the dividends of my worship to you, just divide Lord God! Now I know twas an uneasy stride now I understand, your blessings and my discipline must coincide now I’ve seen that your love is so high and wide and hating you is like becoming the voluntary victim of a homicide I said you do not care, please Lord, I lied Your ways are mysterious indeed You searched my heart and all you saw was greed because only my desires and blindness I feed and you knew among the wheat, I’ll be a weed. Despite I, not taking heed You were still patient and ever ready to lead You never gave me what I wanted nor stick to my timing but at the appointed time, lavished me with all I need while watering my entire efforts’ seed. Thank you heavenly father! Leaving your presence, I now forbid and serving you wholeheartedly is henceforth my utmost deed.
for the poetry contest "Fighting God sponsored by rob carmack

Copyright © Funom Makama