Best Accustom Poems
when beauty met the beast
she was a cutie, he was a beast
she thought that she'd speak to him at least
and at least find out what made
a beast, a beast
as the beast looked at her
he wondered; what a feast
but the way she spoke to him
was gentle and curiosity increased
he found her some what pleasant
and laid his aggression aside
for now he'd grown accustom
and hoped she would abide
as time past he looked at her
as he never did before
tender conversations
brought his knees to the floor
she'd become his weakness
his task forever more
he liked to hear her voice
and see her walk through the door
on holidays there were presents
on birthdays a feast
each special day that brought her presence
was a holy day to say the least
now i am wholly human
and i can tell you well
that jealousy fits us humans
and beast very well
one look at competition
can take us all to hell
we can never avoid perdition
when one other than God
we our souls sell
and from God comes the testing
old men and prophets tell
the beast asked God for patience
and God knows how to teach it well
the next time the beast see's beauty
there is a ring on her hand
he didn't care to mention it
but that was one thing he couldn't stand
worn down he ask her
what the ring meant on her hand
slowly she confided, it meant she'd
marry another man
the beast now was furious
he did not understand
that all these years confiding
he was suppose to be the man
what then would become of her
his conscious did demand
all the years he spent with her
were coming to an end
yet love had one more service
his heart would command
tell the maid he loved her
and ask her for her hand
let all the powers of wickedness
and goodness take their stand
upon this maids answer
i'll bravely take my chance
Categories:
accustom, adventure, fantasy, girlfriend-boyfriend, imagination,
Form:
Ballad
I know where she prays within the necessity of nightfall
inside the Poets' Pantheon, an isolated Idol
they all came, close as envy can to care,
flowers and jewels from all the conquered territories
laid quietly at her toes,
Marco Polo would recognize her as exotic medicine
travel for centuries to have a single dose,
break your heart as a spoil of war that words could justify,
Leonardo slave to invent new paints for her grin of grace,
Janis Joplin shake out lyrics of how nobody could deny her dreams
without consequence of catastrophe,
demolish you with an ever deepening desire,
she needed a man that could hold the heights of her heaven,
a man capable not of sacrafice for a taste of her starlight
but one offering partnership in the placement of ******'s origin
giving forbidden sensation to her solar system,
so accustom to receiving love from the enamoured
amour as a dialect was nearly extinct in her essence,
a Goddess so tired of inspiring, so exhausted, almost bled out,
an Olympiean she wanted, an equal for Eternity,
soon worship would do no more for her,
she needed a man willing to receive her sacrafice,
able to take on her needs,
oh the beauties she may lay in his arms -
J.A.B. This poem has been made for Poet Destroyer's
100 % Nature Contest - 2013
Categories:
accustom, nature,
Form:
Epic
You wanted someone strong; you wanted someone who wouldn’t crack. You thought you were making me tough by breaking me down. You told yourself it was the only way, because I wasn’t the boy you wanted.
No
I was a girl, your first born. I was delicate, young, and very impressionable. I grew numb to the pain I became accustom to.
You succeeded. You made me into someone the world couldn’t shatter, because you can’t break something that’s already in pieces.
Categories:
accustom, abuse, dark, father daughter,
Form:
Narrative
when beauty met the beast
she was a cutie, he was a beast
she thought that she would speak to him
and find out what made
the beast, a beast
as the beast looked at her
he wondered; what a feast
but the way she spoke to him
made gentleness and curiosity increased
he found her some what pleasant
and laid his aggression aside
for now he'd grown accustom
and hoped she would abide
as time past he looked at her
as he never did before
tender conversations
brought his knees to the floor
she'd become his weakness
his task forever more
he liked to hear her voice
and see her walking through the door
on holidays there were presents
on birthdays a feast
each special day that brought her presence
was a holy day to say the least
now i am wholly human
and i can tell you well
that jealousy fits us humans
and beast very well
one look at competition
can take us all to hell
we can never avoid perdition
when one other than God
we our souls sell
and from God comes the testing
old men and prophets tell
the beast asked God for patience
and God knows how to teach it well
the next time the beast see's beauty
there is a ring on her hand
he didn't care to mention it
but that was one thing he couldn't stand
worn down he ask her
what the ring meant on her hand
slowly she confided, it meant she'd
marry another man
the beast now was furious
he did not understand
that all these years confiding
he was suppose to be the man
what then would become of her
his conscious did demand
all the years he spent with her
were coming to an end
yet love had one more service
his heart would command
tell the maid he loved her
and ask her for her hand
let all the powers of wickedness
and goodness take their stand
upon this maids answer
i'll bravely take my chance
Categories:
accustom, lost lovegod, day, god,
Form:
Ballad
A darker song reaches skin and bone,
On panel streets fading steely gray,
Long and far, I fear you are gone.
Dark clouds are melting in time,
Touching the days of humid spring,
A heat-wave dancing too far within.
The mirror speaks, “You are now alone!”
While asleep you cast a fated twin.
Careless to say this is not forever,
Under the night, eyes stretch like leather.
Missing you now, my breath goes astray,
You beckon me here to capture the fray,
Only to see you gone from my view,
With less than hope, I go my own way.
Lizette Woodworth Reese
Spicewood
The spicewood burns along the gray, spent sky
In moist unchimneyed places, in a wind,
That whips it all before, and behind,
Into one thick, rude flame, now low, now high,
It is the first, homeliest thing of all--
At the sight of it, that lad that by it fares,
Whistles afresh his foolish town-caught aires--
A thing so honey-colored, and so tall!
It is as though the young-Year ere he pass,
To the white riot of the cherry tree,
Would fain accustom us, or here, or there,
To his new sudden ways with bough and grass.
So starts with what is humble, plain to see,
And all familiar as a cup, a chair.
Categories:
accustom, love,
Form:
Free verse
As my finger, triggers the sound
My heart ululates, in intoxication
Remembrance, is a gift in itself
Indescribable feelings, leading me forward
Being described, through each line I hear
Nostalgia, a joyous feat
The world's halt, is known
My feet, the only moment shown
Care for those who see, denied by the symphony
Where profanity bears no existence
A freed soul, does possess me
The understanding; mutualistic
Each word, mine as it is theirs
My mind, so accustom that copyright is forgotten
Add my own, I try
Though they who brought fame, made it gold
Treasures, will I never relinquish
A reprieve from my pain, offered through their show
Adrenaline, does it move me so
Motions, are they mine to control
My clothes, never asking to leave
To love, a possibility told once more
As they speak of great loss
Findings do resonate, in my being
The group, one with the groove
With pride they express, not chasing the background
Their voices, not guised by theatrics
Their arrival, a grace to my ears
Excessive sales, a want at most
To empathize with the listener, their only goal
Their personal lives, unquestioned
Hope is all I desire, from their shared experience
Never met, but always a friend
When others left, standing by in grief
Maybe my art, unmoving to them
Their art will remain timeless, to me
With my pain, have they empathized
A resonating nostalgia, plays through their timeless words
My findings, a cure to a cause
~Keshan~
Categories:
accustom, appreciation, dance, dedication, joy,
Form:
Sestina
The cob webbed city sticks to my dirty skin,
as I pass through its predator strings.
On the corners are hustlers, men with wigs and worn heels,
selling their wares, fighting with women,
over property rights.
Traffic moves slow, crawling along like a large slug,
melting into the blacktop.
Your eyes get accustom to waves of heat,
rising like dragons from the burning street.
The musky smell of filth singes the air,
while old men linger by drug stores and bars,
smoking old cigarettes they found, coughing.
Hey buddy, do you have a light, some change?
Still, I'm alone.
A wanderer, born from tainted soil,
surviving on wits and will.
Stopping at every liquor store and chili parlor,
searching for pennies.
Knowing each minute as a day,
as I stick on the soles of society's shoes.
A reminder they don't want to see.
That young is old when left to fend for themselves,
and evil is a weapon never born from a gentle touch.
Gray days are constant,
as life becomes motion with unintended reasons.
Stopping long enough to disappear in the city's web.
People passing by see only dirty shoulders and backs,
leaning against graffiti walls,
trying to stay out of the rain,
until the doors open and the soup line moves.
It's there I feel human, before wandering back,
to my rags and cardboard.
I'll try to sleep away despair as humanity passes by,
with their cold collective misunderstanding of misery and pain,
carried on the backs of the unfortunate homeless,
as we lay in the garbage of society's world,
crying without tears, holding on,
until we just let go and fall into the abyss,
where our bodies are then removed as Jane Doe.
contest A Poem Time Forgot
Categories:
accustom, paradise, drug,
Form:
Free verse
The Zebra she walks through the African dry
Unaware of the mare, under Montana sky
A World far away yet somehow so near
With similar interest and similar fear
The Zebra is free with her family to roam
The mare has a stall, to call all her own
They look much the same, but for stripes on the one
The mare’s glossy coat shines in the sun
The Zebra is alert for danger is near
The mares grown accustom, to a much different fear
A cat for the one, is an enemy to guard
To the other, a cat is a friend…who sits in the yard
To the Zebra a dog, is a Hyena pack
To the mare he helps, put the cattle out back
So both carry a burden, through the long everyday
One careless mistake, with their lives they will pay
A broken leg turns, the mare into glue
One slip by the Zebra, and her family is through
So the mare and the Zebra, may not share the same stripe
But well connected they are…in truth and not tripe
Categories:
accustom, animal,
Form:
Rhyme
A man and a woman are living
in a jungle. The man has lived there
all his life but the woman is new
so she's scared. The jungle is full
of snapping turtles and they are hunting some.
The man knows how to hunt them
and he kills a huge one. They drag it home
and leave it on a wooden table
in a clearing overnight. He says to the woman
Tomorrow you will clean it and cook it
in a soup. This
will accustom her to turtles
and make her less afraid.
The next morning they wake up.
But when they go into the clearing
the turtle is gone
and there's a trail of blood
leading into the jungle.
The woman panics with terror
but the man is no longer
concerned with that: he grabs
his weapons and follows
the blood into the forest.
Categories:
accustom, dream, home, morning, nature,
Form:
Verse
Eternal God’s will
That men have access to Eternal Father
Through Father Christ
The Word made flesh
In the Eternal Holy Spirit
Become sharers in the divine nature
Eternal God dwells in unapproachable light
Wants to communicate His own divine light
In His only begotten Son
By revealing Himself
Eternal God wishes to make them capable
Of Responding to Him
Of knowing Him
Of loving Him far beyond
Their own natural capacity
The Divine plan of Revelation
Realized simultaneously
By deeds
And Words
Which are essentially
Bound with each other
Eternal God shed light in each other
Eternal God communicates Himself to man gradually
Prepares him to welcome
Stages of Sipernatrural Revelation
That culminate in the person
Mission of the Icarnate Word, Jesus Christ
The Word of Eternal God dwelt in man
Became the Son of man
In order accustom man
To perceive Eternal God
Accustom Eternal God to dwell in man
According to the Eternal Father’s pleasure
01112015
Categories:
accustom, bible, christian, devotion, faith,
Form:
Father you were my first love
a collection of feelings fused into a human being meant to love me.
Father you taught me how to love
nights filled with endless practicing how to please you.
Father you showed me love is pain
the beating my mother took filled the air with her cries for help.
Father you told me I was your good girl
words I became accustom to being whispered "Who's daddy's good girl?"
Father you told me I came second
becoming an older sister was a relief and a painful responsibility.
Father you told me I should know better
the first time you laid your hands on me without saying "you're a good girl."
Father you broke me
the time you called her "your good girl."
Father you killed me
the night I heard you go into her room.
Sexual assault is an issue needing to be address more because it happens too frequently not to bring it up. A lot of the time it is someone the victim knows. Help me bring awareness.
Categories:
accustom, abuse, anger, cry, father,
Form:
Narrative
In the summer of 1989, Keimona and Angelo were brutally gunned down on our San Fransico Estate. I was shot in the left-chest and survived, but my parents died. I was only seven years olded.
At the tender age of three I began rreading The Holy Bible to my mom. She leaped with excitement and forgot I was in her lap as she read to me. She screamed"Angie Angie, them baby read! come quick! Come quick!
Perhaps a moth later nuns came into our estate and my formal education began. I was studying the introduction to math, alegbra, history, science, piano, catholicism, geometry,and english. up until that fatal summer day in 1989.
Since then I have been researching my anatomy and research law for personal reason. So actually I am not a novice type of individual.
However, because so few are privy to my personal life. Many seem to think that I am unaware of their fain accolades toward me. I hod it not agains them, because they are
accustom to living a life of vain usage of powerful words only to observe the reaction of those who are the receiever of such folly.
With what I had to survive, please keep your shallow accolades to yourself and not waste your time attempting to induce a reaction from me. I was always told that love, friendship, and other sacred words were action words. Yet, you have untold scores of people who use such words for the sack of manipulation and whatever else is going on in their decay mentality. Just keep your shallow accolades.
Categories:
accustom, visionary, words, education, summer,
Form:
We was raised in the slum with crack placed on our blocks,
Then we grew up in the hood taught to cook & sell crack rock,
The only risk is to watch out for the cops
to prevent a night in jail with three hots in a cot,
Now your sitting waiting for bail,
But the longer you wait your mind becomes more accustom to jail,
So when you’re free all your able to do is get “quick money,”
Back on the beat
So now that risk process you’re forced to repeat,
While your self creates a new life to live,
When you don’t get what you need to give,
You feel there’s no reason to live,
However your education isn’t to uplift the nation,
When all you want to do is make “quick money” to support a kid
Or put an end to the frustration,
But here’s the devils trick,
He allows positive people to enter your life to recondition it,
But you deny your only chance to try,
Instead of going to school & paying a different type of dues,
You go back to the way you was brought up to live,
“to get what you need to give,”
Crack to your own people
Because we’re so infatuated with making “quick money” & how to live illegal,
Now your only life options is to get stuck with a convict
Or to admit to the devils trick
He didn’t have to use a gun,
But a trick to get your soul to make you think getting “quick money”
Is your only way out the slum…
Categories:
accustom, visionary, life, education, life,
Form:
Lyric
New York City Manhattan
Where many dreams are made
The bus stopped on 347 West 57th Street.
And drop me off in front the colonnade
There are So many people
Just going about their way
To me it’s amazing to see
To them it’s just another day
They are from around the world
Many comes with high hopes
Some from the capital cities
Some from the mountain slopes
Not everyone will reach their gold’s
But they will never stop trying
Some never see their home land again
Right here they end up dying
Some not accustom with the cold
Wearing layers of clothing to keep warm
Some with names so hard to pronounce
They will say just call me tom
My boss could not say my name
So he said I will name you tony
And so many years after
That name has stuck on me
Times Square is absolutely gorgeous
So beautiful to see at night
City cars rushing by honking horns
And the hundreds of neon lights
New York! The skyline at sunset
Is the most breathing to see?
And the sidewalk vendors in china town
Every one says they got a sale for me
See many stars on the sidewalks
Saw Jennifer Anniston in a high heel
She is so much more beautiful
When you get to see her in real
So many famous places
Lines the New York side walks
Theaters, studios, stores, hotels
And wall street with millions of stocks
Yes this is the place many will come
With hopes of a better life in mind
And the will walk New York sidewalks
Looking for a dreams to be find
Categories:
accustom, devotion, me, me, new
Form:
Light Verse
My Deepest Fears
To be imprisoned and grow accustom to my cell
To witness true love but never love at all
To sing like an angel but my voice falls on deaf ears
To live beyond my children while in my golden years
To lie in bed with a snake between my legs
To cry out loud for help but my voice doth fade
To visit my child in prison from year to year
To be eaten alive by any varmint at all
To work hard the day accomplishing nary a thing
To lose my dear wife as my breath does cease
To open my eye after the grave
To feel hot bothered tortured and in pain
In knowing the lord my God shuns his face
Categories:
accustom, fear, voice, love, voice,
Form:
Free verse