Adaption Poems | Examples

Zen mode

stability in oscillations
by adaption and flexibility
relinquishing mental resistance
as a flowing orientation 
steadies the flame

we are the sunset
dying without any regret
as also beauteous glory of dawn
playing all life roles assigned
in vibrant nonchalance

CHANGE

Colour unto black-and-white.
Darkness revealed by the light.
Cold which warms to become hot.
Lines drawn from a single dot.
Wooden homes replaced by bricks.
Something different in the mix.
Out with old and in with new...
Such is change for me and you.
Change can be a welcome touch...
For the better, providing much.
It may hold the needed answers
To frictional circumstances.
At times, it can be for worse...
Less a blessing, more a curse.
Trial and error could be so...
Otherwise, you will never know.
Some are open to a change...
Others find its idea strange.
Those more willing to adaption
Tend to reap more satisfaction.

Adaption

A Doe and deer come to my backyard.
its quite a common sight
              in leafy suburbia.

The hunters search out the 
deep woods to shoot at them.

They are in no danger here
except for the growling menace 
                      of minor roads.

They are unphased,
   by me at my door,
both stare at me for a long minute.

Then the fawn strays 
too far from its mother.

Mother and Bambi
         disappear into 
a light industrial unit
just a stone’s throw away.

That’s just how it is round here,
the tall hedgerows
                  hide both the deer 
and the humming machinery,
                      that unobserved
 make the hunters guns.

A Fascinating Contraption

An umbrella is a fascinating contraption
An apparatus with unparalleled import,
It has evolved through many an adaption
So let us never, inadvertently, sell it short.
The English, yes, they call it a bumbershoot
And for years I didn’t know why, but it is,
A combination of umbrella and parachute
Quite extraordinarily sensible, gee whiz.
I have lost twenty or thirty in my lifetime
Not needing it when I am ready to leave
Since it isn’t raining, ‘tis certainly no crime,
Needing it again, though, it’s such a peeve.

written December 25, 2021

My Life

The tears shed and wiped
It builds character
The endurance of pain
It moulds strength
The obstacles along the way
It emphasises the sights
The challenges faced everyday
It sets the process in motion

A task at hand
It needs consideration
A heart felt story
It needs to be written
A adaption to the environment
It needs to be executed

The noticeable weakness
It formulates the personality
The wind that blows seasonally
It signifies change
The rain that pours uncontrollably
It alerts what is to be
The memories that are to be distinguished
It innovates remembrance

Survival

There is a fierceness in our blood.
An ancient instinct of survival
Our soul will not become extinct.
Boiled on the banks of battle
Parched in the sand of drought
Evolved into a miracle of homeostasis..
Secrets of existance whispered in ear of infants.
Selfishness combines with pride
  and our hearts demand to provide
We will overcome.
There is strength in determination
More so when mind and soul is united.
I am more than your perception
So much more than your understanding
There is a genetic story emboldened with my mothers legacy..

I am alive.
Free.
Wild.


Unrestrained abandonment to the ferocity of my desires.
I am more than the beauty and grace society asked of me..

We are children of a people who spoke to fire
And listened to the wind.
We have inherited the magic of a land who birthed us
And swam through the waves who raised us.

These veins connect me
To a power older than these words.
My spirit knows true strength
 when this world has learned adaption.
We are more than we could ever comprehend.

Adaption

I feel so much pain its starting to feel good , my soul will never tame , change i dont think i should, im not insane , its just conform i never Could, become another link in thd chain, no i never would, so why must others hate, for myself ive always stood, my spirit will never break no matter how much pressurez put, attleSt im not fake , stepping on anothers foot, i just wanna exprezs myself, not manipulate others beliefs, because thos bodies just a shell, something you cannot thieve, im hoping This is hell if not i dont know what to believe

Bad Boys, Watcha Gonna Do

Even good girls never listen to their wise mothers,
they like to hang out with bad guys who stay
up late, don't go to school and sleep all the day;
if only they took their words seriously,
there would be no accidental pregnancy:
how does Liz put up with a baby that often cries?


" Give your baby up for adaption, he would have
a better life than you can give him! " her mom implores;
" No, I can't... I am keeping him and give him love! "
Liz cries our in desperation staring at her child who smiles.


" I saw Robert and he's looking for a job, he claims
he's the father and is taking responsibility; ah, when he sent me a text,
I left home after one; we got drunk on beers
and I barely remember what happened next!
I am aware that sorry won't change anything! " she scream hysterically.
" If he's promises to change, you can still live here and raise your baby! "
Even the walls hear her mother's plead not void of feeling,
then Liz  gratefully says,, " Thank you mom for your understanding! "

Grief

I tried to battle with my grief.I battled many years. "Time is a healer i was told.to which I disbelieving  replied "so does  anyone know how much longer I got? Cos I ache allover and I can't sleep at night and I feel quite sick."
Time does not heal grief. As any insightful person will agree.loss is an ongoing adaption process.its about coping with the loss in the rest of life to come.as well as feeling hurt over the time that has gone.
things happen in life where the destination is not the key.the journey u take and what u learn are going to determine how strong you will become. 
I have led quite a life so far, with loss being the running theme. for me at least I think this is true,that all the experiences I have had, have been a gift, that I was chosen for.

I Don'T Have Enough Faith

It takes real faith to be an evolutionist
For as you study science
The most difficult element to find
Is randomness
And if randomness is scarce;
Almost theoretical,
Then there is design
(a thought heretical)
And if there is a design
There must be a designer? 

DNA is information
Coded strips of pure devotion
To the contrary of the notion
That we came out of sludgy potion

But then we need to understand
That in every place in every land
Evolution is preached as gospel truth
And if preached, it is religion
Without proof, not a smidgen!

Funny how the scientists find 
That adaption of genetic kind
Was programmed in by a superior mind

Funny how the scientists find
That DNA has an operating system
A base code filled with wisdom

I just don’t have enough faith to believe
In evolution

Living It

Cold, shivering, sobbing
The child rested in the caresses of trial
Born to the world’s cruel malice
Foreign touches leave her breathless
Distress…confusion…adaption
Grateful for the chance to live
Bitter for what was and what could never be seen
Dirty…so dirty
Little hands that have been places no child would wander
Trapped in an imagination only formed
By reality’s free-fall…
Into familiar, stark waters 
Deserving it was out of the picture
Living it was ever her fate

Something told her there was more
Beyond that strong, wooden door

Fat Jack Falstaff

That he is old more the pity
His white hairs do witness it

If food, wine and beer be a fault
Then God help the wicked

But for a sweet Jack Falstaff
Kind Jack Falstaff
True Jack Falstaff
Valiant Jack Falstaff 
Therefore more valiant
Being as he is old Jack Falstaff

Banish not him from your friendship
Banish plump Jack
Then banish all the world

My apologises to Shakespeare ! 
An adaption from Henry IV

Rufus Dufas

once came a man of civil tongue
spoke of another poet for what he has not done
tattered his name across the morning daily sun
depicted depraved drunk even a drug-addled madman he was none
since 1842 grudges just for some weird kind of fun
Rufus Wilmot Griswold  Mr editor got his gun
posted Edgar Allen Poe Was Dead died in Baltimore the day before yesterday I just shunned
If this is what memoir of the author is I may be as well as be done
But believing in and still reading Poe's work I have forever keepsakes of suspense and fun


Tribute To Poe



Memoir Of The Author
Rufus Wilmot Griswold
Editor

Also Entry For Brian Strand's
Adaption Contest

A Woman Said To the Universe (Adaptation)

A woman said to the universe:
"Sir, see me as equal!"
"I hear you," replied the universe,
"But I can't see you 
Because that tall man's head is blocking your face."


Adaption from Steven Crane's "A Man Said to the Universe"

A man said to the universe: 
"Sir I exist!" 
"However," replied the universe, 
"The fact has not created in me 
A sense of obligation."


When I was 18 Steven Crane's poem was pasted over my desk at work.  It has always been 
a source of inspiration and intrigue.

Monoku-Maison Jaune

chez nous,full of sunlight-
                                   a yellow,green and blue delight

An adaption of Van Gogh's description of his house see how he pitured it in paint

http://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/vgm/index.jsp?page=2723&lang=en

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