Give it to the rain,
all of your hurt and your pain.
Watch as it belittles under a clap of thunder,
all of your hurt, disdained.
Scream it to the sky,
make it heard.
Let him know how much it hurt when you went through his phone.
His promises, like fallen leaves, scattered by the wind.
Look to the sea, give it the stare you gave him when you found out he was leading you on as if you were some game.
Listen to your heart, let it hurt,
but never let it change who you are for worse.
Listen to your mind,
even if your heart isn't ready to leave him behind,
Remember how much loving him hurt.
Do not wear pride like a necklace
For God detests pride and arrogance
Pride does not go unpunished
Pride leads to disgrace
Humility is rewarded with wisdom
While pride begets destruction
Cause it takes credit for God’s accomplishments
And covets God’s glory
Pride demeans others
It arrogates sense of Almightiness
To a mere mortal
Pride stifles growth of other virtues
Makes one to reject help needed
Prevents one to listen and help others
And deludes one into believing
In one’s self sufficiency
But in reality Pride is admission of weakness
Pride leads to extreme selfishness
Pride does not gratify
Pride does not exulte
Rather it dehumanizes and belittles
In reality
Loneliness is often the price you pay
When you start improving yourself
Jealousy will walk toward you
But you should not let misery stop your path
Bath yourself with perseverance
Victory belongs to you
Finishing your goals is inside of you
And believing in something bigger is a part of you
In a season
Loneliness can bring clarity
A person who belittles you is only
Trying to cut you down to their size
But have none of it
You don’t have to fit in!
In reality
Loneliness can often be
The price you pay when
You start to improve yourself
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
Medasse to all who directly or indirectly taught life’s lessons without realizing it, It amazing how some people behaviors or patterns are disrespectful and how they are belittles towards one another.
I want to run her words
through a carwash, they are not dirty,
just stale, the way a classic corvette
needs a rinse occasionally, but never a re-paint.
Dinner together in a roadhouse,
the nasal song of a country boy
trapped in a ball-breaking melody.
I can’t hear her words,
she can’t hear mine…finally we’re communicating.
An owl in a hollow tree can hear the whole dark forest.
I imagine I am roosting in her throat,
listening, not to her mind or mine,
but Brailing my way around.
In those vocal folds, a little girl is weeping.
a mother belittles and scolds.
The server comes around. “How you’ll doing.”
She and the waitress look to me,
but I am still in the hollow of her throat
a space now witnessing
my own doleful litany of sad songs.
If only I could respond to this woman who shrieks
Who knows so little about whereof she speaks,
Belittles comments she so desperately seeks
Her social and political rantings go on for weeks.
I am amazed that her poetry is so ungrammatical
We would all be better off if she took a sabbatical,
Or spent her time in some more profitable pursuit
Hasn’t she learned that most of us don’t give a hoot.
Today she ignored all the facts and hit on vaccines
Spewed more venom on our president, it seems,
Took a few shots at the world situation in general
Has nothing positive to say, it borders on criminal.
I’ve noticed the recent absence of others of her ilk
They seem to have wilted like early fall cornsilk,
Apparently, folks like her do not fade with neglect
Poetry Soup is best when everyone shows respect.
Those poets who choose to share their beliefs
Are welcome, great; hatred, however, offers no relief
Putting down my country, my president, my politics
With disrespect, I will respond to these lunatics.
Written October 1, 2021
44th on Best 100 Poems of the Month
Poetry Soup, October 3, 2021
POEM OF THE DAY
October 2, 2021
I want to run her thoughts
through a carwash, they are not dirty,
just old, the way a classic corvette
needs a rinse occasionally, but never a re-paint
Dinner out together,
the background music is too loud.
I can hardly hear her words,
she barely hear mine
An owl in a hollow tree can hear the whole dark forest.
I imagine I am roosting in her throat,
listening, not to her words or mine,
but Brailing my way around her silence.
Then I hear it, there between her vocal folds
a little girl is weeping,
a mother belittles and scolds.
The server comes around. “How you’ll doing.”
She and the waitress look to me,
but I am still in the hollow of her throat
a space now witnessing
my own doleful litany of sad songs.
I want to run her thoughts
through a carwash, they are not dirty,
just old, the way a classic corvette
needs a rinse occasionally, but never a re-paint
Dinner out together,
the background music is too loud.
I can’t hear her words,
she can’t hear mine…finally we’re communicating.
An owl in a hollow tree can hear the whole dark forest.
I imagine I am roosting in her throat,
listening, not to her mind or mine,
but Brailing my way around her silence.
Then I hear it, there between her vocal folds
a little girl is weeping,
a mother belittles and scolds.
The server comes around. “How you’ll doing.”
She and the waitress look to me,
but I am still in the hollow of her throat
a space now witnessing
my own doleful litany of sad songs.
Within the depths of silence
Amongst your thoughts are whispers
Where “what if’s” and fantasy collide
You’ll find this great deception
You’ll hide your fears with laughter
Your pain and sorrow too
No other can understand
The song the demon sings
The love of friends and family
Become its favorite food
Each moment held in question
It attacks with strength renewed
Fond memories become too few
As the demon eats away
Caressing as it belittles you
Slowly you become its prey
A Sonnet begets life.
Joy, her child, leaves her womb,
bliss that transcends the tomb
and dulls the Reaper's scythe!
Ah! Joy belittles strife;
delight, as from bedrooms
(without impassive gloom),
makes mother of a wife.
When bards compose, ardent
wax the virgin Sonnets
with their pens: eloquent
the more, beauty begets
desire; then makes pregnant
with Joy which ne'er forfeits.
The World
The world we live in, free as it may seem
smiles at popularity, crowns fame,
mocks solitude and scorns ascetics,
worships money and dreams of good things,
of good looks, of good clothes,
professes humility and pity, while looking up at
the suns of our times, rich and famous,
who look down in turn at the pitiable
crowning them in their golden light,
the spotlight on the less-fortunate they direct, their situation they pity,
invoking the thanks of the Gods above, and the applause of the sycophants,
but cruelly, cruelly the world despises
hates, begrudges, admonishes and belittles
wisdom, and wise men,
the intellectual who sticks away from the crowd
and asks that the dreamy blanket covering the world be tossed away
is dismissed without a second thought,
and buried along with the fake news.
Uttering sugar-coated words is one dimension
Promising to love is one aspect, we must love
Walking on the head is crazy, we must embark on the mission
That proves our readiness and willingness to give
Stacks of moons and stars we promise
In our haste to gain social mileage
In the wake of the longing we increase
On our Facebook page
Cos promising belittles the dignity
Inherent in a spirit of true sacrifice
Which gives the little it can both here and at infinity where affinity
Traverses promise chasms and holds that it doesn’t suffice
To raise hopes on sentimental slopes we intend to dash
At the earliest opportunity we exploit then cut and run
Like the yellow cowardice we flash
When partners demand more than the fun
We long to access in the social process
Where we profess to give much
Deliver less than we access in terms of genuine progress
We purloin as soon as hallowed happiness from others shamelessly we snatch.
Why
are there
stars in heaven above
annoying pinpricks in the firmament?
No need for black holes if all stars were shot on sight.
The reach for the stars is hopeless they are so far away we can never visit them.
Knowing the vastness of the universe belittles and demeans us to insignificance.
We would all feel a lot better, sleep a lot better, if stars were switched off.
Like city lights, stars glare, twinkle, flash so bright all night
that we cannot sleep, and shut shutters are so stifling.
If no stars shone, we could leave the curtains open.
Better not to know what may be out there
when aliens may be coming to get us
Celestial abstinence and solitude
is what we all cherish.
Let us hold a vote.
Raise your hands
if you want
all the stars
switched
to off;
stars
shot.
outer space is vast
unfathomable abyss
better left unknown
connecting the dots
to draw the constellations
is condescending
expanding cosmos
carries us on for the ride
no time to go back
learning about space
seeing its immense vastness
belittles us apes
time and entropy
have the same trajectory
clock ticks disorder
Learning about the vastness of space
belittles us to sub-atomic insignificance
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