Life Abc Poems | Examples
These Life Abc poems are examples of Abc poems about Life. These are the best examples of Abc Life poems written by international poets.
The Burden of Youth
She was seventeen, and her boyfriend had left her
Life is more intense when you are young, she wanted to commit
Suicide so he could see how much he loved her.
Filled her rucksack with stones and waded into the bay, but
The water was low only to her chest when she reached the other side
Besides, she was glad to be alive.
She met a young man also unlucky in love, who took her rucksack
Filled more stones into it and waded into the sea, but now there was
High tide and the young man disappeared under the sea.
A few seagulls shrieked in the otherwise silent area as the girl waited for the bus.
To take her back to town, block out unpleasant thoughts, she said aloud.
My father is a communist, the bus driver who was a fascist stopped
Pulled out his gun and shot her dead, and the women on an outing clapped.
This was her father letting the red flag fly in the street of Utopia.
Secrets in a box
I have a box on the shelf in the spare bedroom
The box has blue and white stripes, I think
It was a shoebox, perhaps bought for a child that
I was not born; my youth is in that box
Sometimes, when alone, I open the box, and it has
many photos of life lived in the seventies
Many friends are smiling for the camera
My ex-wife, too. What they have in common is
that they are all dead
I received a delayed letter from Alex, a friend
By then, I knew he had died, the letter in the box
unopened
I look at the photos like a visitor from a past life
I do not feel sorrow or guilt. I was a difficult
person to live with, even though I had friends
that loved me
I put the lid back on the box. The visit is over
I must go on living in the now.
The New Morality
Trump has spoken, we get up from our chairs and salute, actually not.
The fact is, we are tired of this endless war
That is economically viable for many, an industry of death
we do not see on the factory floor where weapons are made.
A morbid industry, many states need to stave off poverty and
unemployment. Weapons used are someone’s property.
We are backward, us humans we have yet to understand that
most work is not needed, give people money so they can go
climb rocks and go fishing in the stream, swim in the ocean, and
enjoy life, which is an interval between deaths. We have finally
reached the zenith of existence, yet we, for an outdated reason, insist
everyone should work till they drop. Relax, let the Middle East
find its own nirvana.
The sparrows are like us
fell from the dry, hot sky, first the male
sparrows, be because he was older than her
and had developed a habit of hunting near
the large chimneys at the chemical factory
and it was up to the young widow
she had been a fledgling the year before
to feed and bring up five hungry chicks
and if the weather was not cooling
she to would fold her wings and fall on
the bonnet of a passing car, snakes
and ugly beings would move in for the kill
The famous actor Omar Sharif has passed
he will be remembered, but no the demise
of a family of sparrows are forgotten not
be missed in the lottery of life
Gaza Sonnet
A doctor`s house with two daughters came under artillery fire
while he who worked at the hospital in Gaza
Trying to save life after yet another Israeli attack, lost both
His children, the military late apologized.
After the funeral, the good doctor did not seek help for his
Immense suffering , but carried on working while
grief unburdened was eating him up.
One day he went to the beach the sea was calm and blue
He undressed and began swimming he had to get away
A strong swimmer he swam long before an Israeli gunboat
blew him out of the water, red turned to pink and then
ack to calming azure as the warped thinking of the occupiers
said go he should have sought psychological help
For sorrow so deep that no well-meaning words suffice
The Breakup
How cruel I was
cold shoulder against love
no reconciliation
her heart was as cold
as mine
The night was endless
The day saved by a dog
I had some news beginning
but without her
She was not a part
It ended fairly
She had a home, but not
near
My aloneness was great
the dog and I, in the forest
unruffled by reality
Eating lunch in a beautiful
café, she came in and I
desired her greatly
I was in love, wrote hot
poems nothing could
ever go wrong
We know, life is perfect
I had tiered her out;
She wanted to be free
Freedom is a must, but
When freedom hurts those
We love, we have failed
a letter to my editor
I have tried to get more cash to spend
on introducing me to a bigger audience
I contacted many of my readers on X and asked for
A contribution sent to Hillshire will not come
amiss so far nothing.
I could have asked the man himself, but I will not
He suffers from the insecurity that rich people
People who suffer from that, we like them for the money
I happen to like Elon Musk because he struggles
with a deep-seated shyness like my brother did
So his life is not that easy
So, therefore, just print the en book and send
a couple of copies to me, I shall be nothing more
than mulch in the acre of poetry
How it came about
It is impossible to imagine an endless Room
and no planets, and that one of them had
the possibility of life, planet Earth
A friendly planet not given to extremity, it
also had a temperate climate, sometimes it
could have been millions of years later, but
Since time didn't exist, that is academic
Green plants grew in soft soil, our planet
was that green fruit in the trees a livable place
without animal life, an abiogenetic period
That gave the beginning of what we call life
Finally, the emergence of the humanoid
that had a thinking brain that could solve
the problems of daily life and hunting
It is worth noticing that a creator was absent
But that and its many wars it caused were
endless war between races and their odd
faiths, based on an abstract Paradise
Not seeing our Paradise is also our planet
Ghost Rainbow
A woman rang me, she was panegyric about my poems
I smiled without mirth because I knew there would be
a question of financing, the publishing of a book I have
had high hopes for, but had been turned down too often
The woman was adamant about the manuscript
Intense Recall was art, she insisted, a mastery of art.
For one who has spent twenty years trying to become
A writer and poet can so easily fall for flattery
The woman, on the phone, said she loved me, that alone
rang warning bells, and I thought of the Fascist poet, who
lived in Italy all his life, a poet who expects to be paid
is not a real poet; I assume he, like so many other poets
had private means
The price for making me into a famous poet was not
excessive, quite reasonable, yet too much, so I have
to forgo being famous; that is ok, no one will sit down
and write lies about me
The last puzzle
When the last piece of your life's puzzle
finally fits, and you have outgrown the old man
who still crave recognition
He spends his, what might be his last summer
in his den editing and editing
not to leave alone work done when young
He cannot be what he once was
A new life walking on soft sand and a smile
at hungry sea gulls flying low in the forever
hunt for food, not likely
He knows he will, read about the politics of our
time to form an opinion and keep it to himself
He has resigned to his shortcoming smile and
Forgive the old man
The Loss
Dream time, lazy and long, is over
It lasted a generation
But real life
Came and stole the colors
Home-baked bread, no more
Everything is easy, shop-bought
and taste of the average.
I know of a woman who stole
Flowers for her son’s coffin
It stood there in the snow
Grave diggers on strike.
But a bouquet doesn’t
Mind, know why they are needed
Rootless and decaying anyway
So let the mother be, she didn’t
Do anything wrong, just rearranged
Flowers bought in a shop for a grave
They had too many for her son’s
Whose no flora in the world could hide
Hide a mother’s grief
A small war
At the outskirt of Europe, a war
has broken out in countries where everyone drives Lada
mothers interviewed are proud of their sons
defending their land.
Should one son die, a big picture will appear in the living room
neighbors invited to coffee and cakes
his proud mother will tell what a good boy he was
and he died with honor.
I suppose in Nazi Germany, mothers said the same
until there were no sons left.
There will be peace, and everyone will claim victory
life will go on among the semi-literary people
who are doomed to live among high mountains and not learning
from past mistakes
Expressions
Yesterday I wrote about observing facial expressions
so much can be said of the unsaid, where a smile often
it is a shield against the hurt of loose, unscripted words
AI, suggested it could help, I let it help, but the result
flawless, I must say, was no longer what I wrote
AI suggested I should alter some words to sound
more positive, overlooking the slight hesitation of one
not sure he is right, a lack of irony which I think is vital
in our daily life
My article about facial observance was no longer mine
it had little to do with what I was thinking at the time
I ask, how does AI know what a correct expression is
Shoes shopping
I dislike wasting my time shopping for shoes
The man who wrote Wasteland, a famous poem
He is known for this; he did like boots too for walking
He did indeed, and many other things too
I, when I had a bike, cycled through the Wasteland
a domestic landscape growing beautifully wild
I don`t see it now, there is a distance between
me and the dream I had, the touch, the aroma of
Nature is also a memory of horse manure in
a field verdant as the sea around Greenland.
I need a wasteland, a place where I can lose myself
Without it, life is an endless, trivial repetition.
Tomorrow I will buy a pair of walking boots.
Mars, Musk, And Bond Girls
Mars is again in the news, and Musk has been silent
about going to Mars, perhaps he has found
Another planet more suitable to his temperament
We read that four women are going to Mars, mainly
because they have been astronauts and know
a thing or two about the limitless space if one gets
to far out can disappear into a time that does not
exist and are doomed to fly while drinking tea from
a straw, worrying about whether sugar is fattening.
It might be possible to unclog the dust in hidden
river beds on Mars, it might be that the dust is dry water
that, if we have a magic formula, will spring to life
sing like a waterfall in April, create sweet dams
and a landscape unspoiled by the ugly windmills
Should Elon Musk take a renewed interest in
Mars, he has the will to go there, but will he when
As a leader, introduce democracy among the crew
or demand Mars as an authoritarian regime