Best Ambivalence Poems
Atmosphere of Spring
Aura of cold, powdered snow
Ambivalence still
the heart is always right
unless this time it’s wrong
and this time is not like all the others
this game he must not lose
too much at risk
no room for error
is it worth the risk
has he hit the point of no return
is it really worth the venture
if it’s a go
execution must be meticulous
indeed the stakes are high
this gamble must be calculated
pros and cons be tallied
well thought through in every detail
arsenal of charm and tactics
gone out on a limb
a joyride down a slippery slope
jeopardizing the crown
winner take all
in pursuit of the gauntlet
ripple effect of a backlash
a chain reaction
hanging in the balance
this sort of entanglement
not for the foolhardy
it’s no sitcom for buffoons
at the slightest hiccup
fallout could be disastrous
will he roll the dice
at what point does
temptation become obsession
and seriously cloud all judgment
precarious and unpredictable
impetuous and highly flammable
the repercussions for frivolity
the high cost of capricious reverie
its longterm aftermath
risky business
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~CITYLIGHTS~ 2021
Read on air by invitation ~ August 13, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on August 2, 2021 for A BRIAN STRAND YOUR CHOICE POETRY contest sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
“Never spend your time in anticipation of a future, procrastinating and thinking that we have so much of time ahead and many more opportunities on our way. But nothing is certain, only the present time and chances. They are in our hold and are ours. Make the best use of them.” ~ By Poet
With the night quickly passing by,
My soul breaks into blossoms of joy.
When the sun begins his solemn race,
In my ears fall the birds’ hymns of praise.
As the wind passes tousling my hair,
With soft whisperings in my ear,
I catch the strains of a Heavenly band,
And feel the presence of a loving friend.
Glancing on the gorgeous buds of May,
Swaying in breeze that make me gay,
I lose myself in the glory of creation,
And fold my hands in deep veneration.
When I hear the cuckoo pouring in shower,
Her songs from far flung forest glade or bower,
A delightful rhythm fills my space,
And its fleeting cadence brightens up my face.
But suddenly I sense a creeping pain,
As I see a cripple staggering in strain,
At a distance, I see a weeping child,
Abandoned by its mother behind a thicket wild.
Around me I see the homeless and the frail,
Wandering aimless, tossed by life’s violent gale.
Thus I see life with grim challenges of trials and strife,
Where misfortune, distress and betrayal, so very rife.
At times I feel my heart missing a beat,
And fear the sweep of sand under my feet.
This Earth often turns a blistering desert,
But sure with shady oases, strewn apart.
This is the irrefutable truth, for sure,
That life can at once be sweet and sour.
So, enjoy life when it is within our scope and scheme.
Squeeze every happy moment. Carpe Diem!
standing on one leg
the crane trusts in good fortune ---
fate of fish fizzles
During the '70's, deep in the South,
I was white but raised black by a black man.
As a boy, I have watched the Ku Klux Klan
on the news—and was frightened as a youth
who felt “black.” In those times, it was uncouth
and a mark of disgrace to be less than
the child of a white mother and white man:
even back then I knew that racist truth.
Two-score years have passed and I’m still confused,
troubled, and unclear as to what or how
I should be: am I white—or “black”? (Abused
by my step-dad, I identify with him now.).
It’s terrible being me. But scarred like this,
(and once raised as black) I now loathe prejudice.
Seasons of Sanity
Affect my a$$.
It is ever thus.
Each season percolates
Distinct chemical essences from the
Cauldron of consciousness
Sloshing edge to edge in my brain pan.
Normalcy.
No one knows what that elusive
Formula could be.
Perceptions are refracted
A thousand times over
Within the smoke filled
Fun house of our existence.
Synthesis.
Earth’s seasons typify
But do not define
The kaleidoscope colors;
Moods and perceptions
Transform, intensify-
Lavenders to lightning blue,
Browns to lightening limes,
Maroons to neon ruby reds.
Thrashed strings of a guitar,
Spectrums of ambivalent
Harmonies theme my days.
Seasons of Sanity.
Anyone claiming to know
The weather of sanity’s seasons
Is to be avoided.
Ambivalence
Any action that comes to mind
May be unambiguously defined.
But being uncertain of the intention planned,
Indecision will promptly show its hand.
Very soon the action will be declined.
Ambivalence is the way to go
Lest any preference should start to show.
Each idea in conflict with those past
Never was determined to be the last.
Conclusively, therefore, I have to say
Equivocation is here to stay.
Barry Stebbings
07/07/18
How long obstinate truth will surprise you?
The moment like slippery things
Mixed emotions breath poison
The blue sky in the plain...
Hanging decision uncertainly attacks
Snake of blood that crawls the heart.
To put punctuation mark
In the uncaught wishes
Dust gathers towards Happy-go-line.
Millions of voices alarm self-image.
What's the use of grey documents then?
When autumn comes
is winter far away?
Every silver lining
has a cloud.
This is the best of all possible worlds.
So says the optimist,
so says the pessimist too.
What once was true love, has now become vengeance,
we love each other better from a distance.
Pride married Foolish, they begot Vanity,
A sorceress who invented insanity.
Under her spell, Foolish turned Pride to dust,
a backfiring spell creating such as: Lust.
Karma was born, she was Hope's ugly cousin,
Faith walked with angels, Love and Joy was one.
Then Love and Pain, they united you see,
Pain cast a spell and became Hate magically.
But Love was patient and Love was surely kind
Forcing Hate to strike a curse on her making her blind.
Peace came to help her in the form of a dove,
crept up on Hate, and turned the lights on for Love!
now Hate was stumbling and tripping in the dark;
crying out for Love with all of his cold bitter heart.
she pleaded for him to come into the light;
he replied, "Come here my love and all will be right."
Falling from wisdom into dreams he had weaved,
Drunk and blind again easily she was decieved.
Now here she was again tripping into ditches, and stumbling over boulders,
led by the same one who had her looking over her shoulders.
No direction, no ending, living a pointless life of no sense;
Love and Hate did come to be withchild, and gave birth to Ambivalence.
Now she's born as a new breed and she multplies like wild weeds and flowers;
Like a sourpatch kid contrary..sweetest is her start..and she only becomes more sour
forevermore she is a bittersweet, perfect, legal crime..
Alas the essence of Ambivalence is to love and hate at the same time.
drunk and blind folded; she was again easily decieved.
Now here she was again tripping into ditches, and over limbs & boulders,
led by the same one who had her looking over her shoulders.
No direction, no ending, living life free from innocence and entirely with no sense;
they became withchild, Love and Hate, and gave birth to Ambivalence.
Now she's born as a new breed and she multplies like wild weeds and flowers;
Like a sourpatch kid contrary..sweetest is her start..and she only becomes more sour
forevermore she is a bittersweet, perfect, legal crime..
Alas the essence of Ambivalence is to love and hate at the same time.
What a beautiful cup of coffee
I needed it so damn bad
Boy it hit the spot
but didn’t stop the crave I had
Now I want another one
even more than the first
I’m a petty man alas,
with ambivalence I burst
If I give in to my desire
the price could be greater
I’m a petty man indeed
and may well pay for it later
Bottoms up!
Not as good as the first
to hell with these bad calls
now I’m all on edge
and climbing up the walls
But I’ve learnt a valuable lesson
from this hole I dug
In future skip the cup
go for one big bastard mug!
By
David Kavanagh
Detect Bit of Ambivalence
Threw me for a curve
And loop and must be normal
To belong in group.
Is something missing
Or me who is resisting
Rules are insisting.
When I run rampant
And completely have free rein
Will I drive you insane?
Live in land of free
And will and receive my fill
Let's leave it at that?
Problems with my poetry group and me
resulting in my dropping out and staying
with Poetry Soup.
Jim Horn
Ambivalence
Apparently vague
Contradicting, contrasting, confusing
Embedded rhetorical ambiguity
Alluring, enigmatic puzzle
Irony
-Nov., 10 20,19
Often I think that time never comes back,
and so I accept the fact,
life has to move on,
certain thoughts hover on.
It takes decades to build such a strong relation,
It cannot be explained what makes you trust someone,
slowly settled to a point that, perhaps it's just a fascination,
The feeling got so strong, though the time wasn't so long.
Often I think that time never comes back,
and I was happy with it whatever be the fact,
Everything went against me, my friends began to hate me,
Still I didn't want to lose it, may what be the cost of it.
It was the first time I felt friendship being so strong,
doubted myself whether I am doing wrong,
But neither I bothered for the world, nor myself,
Just lived the moment coz I knew it wont last long.
Things turned altogether, friendship developed even stronger,
Is it love or infatuation, to be or not to be remains the question,
In my mind, there is a storm of ambivalence,
I lived it though, knowing that
Maybe it's my Perception, Maybe it's an illusion.
She sinks into her threadbare cushion
on the aged-old rocker she huddles in daily
placing her thin-skinned arms
cold to the touch upon the arm rail
darkened from the oil of her skin
Creaks and moans play a tedious rhythmic song
from loosed screws holding the oak rockers
that roll over the rutted floor back and forth
her feet pushing off an upswept floor
as she drifts into her thoughtless doom
It is an everyday sound to her ears
She does not feel its rhythm
or hear the sounds of the day that resonate
from the busy street below
She waits for something she cannot find
day after long day
season to season
year after year
When her heart stops listening to the silence
she watches out the window facing the street
where the sidewalks carry on with life
Her eyes meet unknown faces
that she greets with impenetrable eyes
Her mouth turns down with no utterance of words
In that solitary confinement within
her self-imposed throne
the songbird has lost its song
the sun has faded in its warmth
she sits in a cathedral without god
She has fled with each lonely night
in the darkness that swallowed her dreams
to awaken to one more day at the same window
She has forgotten the sound of her name
There is no one to answer