Aspired Poems | Examples

Shattered Dreams In The Sky

Dreams were shattered like glass shards,
As innocent lives were pushed into the jaws of death.
Some doctors, engineers, accountants, and bards,
Extinguished were the candles of their breath.

A wife was on her way to meet her spouse,
While the daughters and sons aspired to study abroad,
Alas! Fate destroyed someone's beautiful house, 
As the passengers were destined to embark on a journey to God. 

Shocking news that sent waves of grief,
To all the mourners of the deceased,
A plane that crashed after its departure brief,
Time itself seemed to have ceased. 

Every single drop of blood is precious 
And so is every soul,
Let us tear down the wall of pride and status. 
Saving humanity should be our ultimate goal.

cold day and blue sky

Cold Day and "Bluesky Social"
 
This morning, pale sunlight entered
didn't stay left behind on a cold day in a blank
a bedroom that has never seen sexual activity
or a hidden ******** under the duvet
in a bed solely made to sleep in 
This was the first winter day, cold and lacked
a promise of a tomorrow with cold hands
wooly socks and dressed in old pajamas 
Last night, he had become a member of
a newish site that aspired to be posh
for people with odd work titles like assistant 
manager or some other job descriptions
like they have those who answer in a letter 
to the Guardian, knotted posh writing, and 
a self-regarding attitude
I can't send in articles unless I have seven
people to follow, but I can comment on stuff
in a cultural manner and lack of irony

Register Call

A skeletal smirk at the school door -
the greeter-teacher; 50 years later,
I feel his gimlet eyes at my back,
that leer is now plugged with dirt,
yet it can still be traced in the brown water stains
of mottled toilet walls.

A female slave-unit named ‘Miss,’
She never did speak directly to a kid,
only through the thin lips of her personal intimidator,
a third level teacher who lubricated nerve endings.

I am ‘put right’ by a serial wrongdoer
with a goose steeping gait,
his guppy mouth is a blubbery hellhole.
Next, 
a second-tier maniac with a penchant for angry rhetoric,
his large hands flay like windsails as they
slap books and heads.

A last Piscean reflection,
a teach sporting a fish-head grin
as he opens a school exit door for me
while I gladly leave forever.

They would all hate to be in a poem like this
so tightly packed together
like oily sardines choking on the phlegm 
of what they could have aspired to,
could have been.

Ink of insecurity

A poet I aspired to be,
Yet words that mattered were in opposition with me.
A pen I could hold, a book I owned,
But the feelings were never my own.

A writer's soul is a shattered vase,
Tired from the pain and strain it etched to a lonely page.
However, mine was untouched, free
From the shadows that lurked behind a poet.

What do they have that I lacked?
An answer to that I craved so bad.
I am a terrible poet, with unpolished words
And simple thoughts.

I could never be equals with such greatness.
When they write, it summons gods.
When I write, I just wrote words.
I repeated them so often, they sounded so forced.

Shakespeare would tell me to give up,
Maya would say I've tried enough.
But my poetic dreams would come to a cease,
That thought makes my knees weak.

Writing has always been my release,
Yet being the best at it just seems too much.

TIRED--Andaree

Extreme cleaning my house is wearing me out,
but I’ll get through. There can be no doubt. 
Straining and scrubbing’s required.
Buckets, I’ve perspired.
I’m beyond
tired.
Though not fond
of being this mired
in hard labor, I aspired
to cleanliness. When I’m through, I’ll shout.
Extreme cleaning my house is wearing me out.

NEGLECT

Strangled into the ropes of death
An undeserving figure took the role finely
Tears were my favorite pal
Scribbling manifested my parallel reality
Overthrowing seemed an eminent long journey
Warmth was all that I aspired for
Then again, I found a home inside me...

Every Man's Challenge

  A man of modest mien and means
    his genius hidden ‘behind-the-scenes’
  The Rebbe of Lubavitch in NYC was the address
    for those who aspired to success  

  For over forty years, ‘til 1994 
    those who knocked at his door
  from early morning ‘til far into the night
    came away with clarity, unparalleled light

  He challenged each visitor, from the States or overseas
    to be the absolute best they could possibly be
  Accepting no excuses, delays or ‘lack of passion’ 
   The Rebbe told them: “Obstacles are miracles
			                         ~ waiting to happen”*  


______________________________________
*’Likkutei Sichot, Vol. 6 – Beshalach, ‘The Wis- 
   dom of the Rebbe,’ by Tzvi Freeman... The 
   Rebbe is aka 'The Lubavitcher Rebbe.'

Forest Wildren

            Oily sky, weightless portals 
of slipstream bubbles in a fluid - 
superhighway of a different means.
Effortless, my travel, everywhere at once, 
like a cat after a string.
A scattergory of movement in instant summation.
Summoned by the reading of uncategorized belief. 
Where what is possible is aspired to will,
like "Tom Sawyer" in a Rush song.
Looking for
that Sprite of Strange Wings 
under moonlit skies.
She
will evade me no longer
in her Black Mamba mean streaks
of hide and seek.

She has singled me out to double since before the beginning of Time 
and this pervading trouble she holds aloft.
I feel like ten feet thick lead, 
laden with the now,
and quickened like an inertial flow 
in which we trough.
In her presents - 
she is leading with carrot to know, for sure,
That I will love her forever.
Then, she will show,
her smile reuknighted 
to my soul's oath of capture.

Rock Star

  Determined to succeed
    He'd play that guitar 'til his fingers'd bleed

  Once, Kyle aspired to be a rock star
    ~ 'til sped to the manicurist in an ambulance car

My Son Scotttie

Go ahead, ask me
Am I'm proud of my dear son Scott
You can bet your sweet darn bippy I am
Proud as one of them peacocks

Turned out to be a guru
In the fast paced world of computers
There ain't no problem my Scottie can't solve
Nuttin' can stump my Scooter

Destined to make big bucks
In the fast paced world of promotions
Not too long fore he's living on easy street
People will say what's this commotion

The commotion will be my Scottie
Setting the pharmaceutical world on fire
With ingenious solutions to all their problems
Reaching goals to which I aspired

Was once a guru like Scooter
Was a whole lot different in those days
No computers, just a big bunch of magic markers
Creating ads the old fashioned way

Go ahead, ask me
Am I'm proud of my dear Scooter boy
You better believe it, I'm over the top thrilled
He's my absolute pride and joy!


Do you think I'm a proud Papa?

Jeanie Was Gone

"And just like that, Jeanie was gone".
In the movie, Forrest Gump, Forrest
could never keep track of Jeanie,
a childhood friend he grew up with.

With the first viewing of the movie,
I was reminded of a childhood friend
for whom I cared a lot and thought that
our lives would be spent together.
Her name was also Jean.

One might say that she was the one that 'got away'
or the one I lost, but looking back, she was not the one
that God had planned for me. Until I came to realize
that fact, just like Forrest, in my heart, I kept saying,
"And just like that, Jeanie was gone".  Sometimes, we
have to lose in order to gain.

I remember the time and place of that crucial conversation
when we both came to the realization that we were not meant
for each other. My chosen career was in conflict with the kind of life
to which she aspired. Sometimes, the one that got away is the one
that should have gotten away because anything otherwise would
have been a failure.

When I Get Old

When I get old
I will attain a clean heart of gold
as wise as that of King Solomon
until I turn the ripe old age 
of one hundred years old


I will pattern my life
after that of Lady Wisdom
instead of that of Lady Folly
which I had followed in my youth
subscribing lessons from my lifetime
and writings I would of left behind
into the hands of my descendents
like a baton in a relay race


When I get old
my heart will forsake 
the desire and comforts
of the earthly pleasures 
I had aspired for in my youth
because these such things 
will become nothing but frivolity 
but an adventure of spending 
my days walking with the Lord
on the sand and ocean waves 
and sports fishing on my boat
until my name is called upon
by our divine Father above 
for my earthly departure

Scooter

Go ahead, ask me again
Am I proud of my dear son Scott
You can bet your sweet little bippy I am
Proud as one of them peacocks

Turned out to be a guru
In the fast paced world of computers
There ain't no problem my Scottie can't solve
Nuttin' can stump my Scooter

Destined to make big bucks
In the fast paced world of promotions
Not too long fore he's living on easy street
People will say what's this commotion

The commotion will be my Scottie
Setting the pharmaceutical world on fire
With ingenious solutions to all their problems
Reaching goals to which I aspired

Was once a guru like Scooter
Was a whole lot different in those days
No computers, just a big bunch of magic markers
Creating ads the old fashioned way

Go ahead, ask me again
Am I'm proud of my dear Scooter boy
You better believe it, I'm over the top thrilled
He's my absolute pride and joy!

The Ninny

he had often aspired to being a jester
the wise one of Tarot land
cheekily dressed with wit on his lips

as of late he has been caught up
in irreverent lies and half-truths
tossed at him in anger and drunken inhibition
and his glittery clothes soaked them up for a while
until he himself imbibed in retribution and pain
a toxic combination of venom and vile
far from the love that still is 
distant from kindness and compassion
so much that when he looked into the mirror
a vagrant journeyman of feeling and thought
looked like a lost soul in the middle of nowhere

at first he shrieked and shouted his hurt
refused to believe that he himself had become
much more than numb 
was far less innocent than his imagined whistles and bells
deceived him to portray

eventually the halfwit resolved to
accept his own imperfections
and called his purple garments blue and red
for the union was at great danger
violet and lilac notions turned into new ideas
at times his face contorted in horror
his hands portrayed claws
and his mouth vowed to stay mute at times

eventually there was hope
when he realized what to do
and what not to engage with

22nd December 2022

Wishes On Fire

Nothing leaves a footprint
like a memory burned
Deep into the consciousness
of those unlearned

Nothing grows more deadly
than the force of will
It powers every weapon
it vanquishes with skill

Nothing braves tomorrow
like a wish on fire
Its light forever’s beacon
to each soul aspired

Nothing is more final
than a dying breath
Words exiting their prison
—eternity’s rosette


(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)

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