Best Approximately Poems
Painful Perspectives
Bullying in America
"About 77% of students have admitted to being the victim of of one type of bullying or another."
--www.bullyingstatistics.org
My stomach tightens once again
By now I know the drill
It doesn't matter what I do
Move on, scream out, stand still
My heartbeat throbbing louder now
As heavy footsteps near
My mouth, dry as a cotton ball
My shoulders hunch in fear
Suddenly, I feel the sting
My cheek turns cherry red
The smack has almost knocked me down
The pain shoots through my head
Now words so cruel they pierce my heart
I try to block the sound
My efforts useless yet again
Scars stain my soul deep down
I touch my flesh to feel it swell
My light begins to die
My head held low, I walk away
Too numb by now to cry...
"Approximately 30% of young people admit to bullying others."
---www.americanspcc.org
For me, each morning starts the same
No feelings, just routine
Commands and orders barked my way
"Get up! Get dressed! Get clean!"
I step into the blinding sun
Yet pause before I go
Just once to hear, "I love you dear."
The door slams; I should know
The sadness that I used to feel
Has slowly turned to rage
So off to school I stomp ahead
My heart locked in a cage
Not long after I arrive
I choose my timid deer
My heavy footsteps lead the way
Toward the scent of fear
My hand hits flesh; I feel relieved
To share my hidden pain
I utter words so cruel and vile
Too numb to feel ashamed...
"It is reported that 70.6% of young people say they have seen bullying in schools."
---www.americanspcc.org
Standing near my closest friend
I feel the tension rise
By now, I know what to expect
Not once am I surprised
My fingers tremble slightly still
As I await the scene
I fight the stinging in my eyes
Why is this world so mean?
I watch my best friend cower now
The same thing every day
I cringe for what's about to come
As predator seeks prey
My inner struggle swallows me
I long to take a stand
I fear the wrath if I intrude
Escape, I haven't planned
So helplessly I witness pain
Inflicted on my friend
I wish I had the courage to
Make the bullying end...
The message relayed by the computer generated
voice said my que in line would be
approximately 20 minutes.
So I had twenty minutes to think about
what I needed to say.
I ran it over and over again in my head
All my rational arguments and opinions
Then twenty minutes later the voice returns
to say that due to the high volume of calls
we ask you to leave a detailed message
and an agent will return your call in the next 48 hrs.
So in my best computer generated voice
I give my name and say,
Due to lack of dealing with an actual human
please be advised
that I will be cancelling my insurance
with your lame ass company.
This phone call may be recorded
for training purposes
for the next time I want to dump
a crap company such as yours.
Do not call in the next 48 hrs
as I will be out shopping for a company
with actual humans on staff.
I'd have loved to see the bluebirds fly
above the white chalk-cliffs of Dover--
and as they were blithely soaring over,
immersed in thought I'd lie
in calm repose upon that beach,
admiring their swooping forms,
evanescent, in fleeting storms,
like ballet ... far beyond my reach.
Frisking, fragile, carefree birds,
symbolic through intrinsic meaning --
like sterling hope and freedom's words
light English springs, forever greening:
while England fought the bitter fight
to hold at bay the 'fall of night.'
Author notes
November 20, 2004 - approx 112 words
What makes Britain great? The entire world would be speaking German and Japanese right now if not for British courage in the face of overwhelming adversity.
Setting, approximately June, 1941, Dover Beach, immediately following the Battle of Britain.
This is a published poem, copyrighted, and it takes you to a specific place as well as a specific time, when the world was at war and the fate of all mankind hung in the balance. It is relevant because we are fast approaching another such time. Bluebirds are not found in the British Isles, but I wrote the poem before I became aware of the fact. The curator at the Dover Museum said I should just leave it that way, as bluebirds, since the song, The White Cliffs of Dover, specifically named bluebirds.
Update: BLUEBIRD is an old country name for swallows and house martins, which have a blue sheen to their plumage. These migrants arrive from the continent in spring and leave in autumn, crossing the English Channel. So these bluebirds appear at least twice a year over the white cliffs and no doubt many spend the entire summer in the vicinity of Dover. As portents of improving weather, swallows and martins are traditionally believed to bring good fortune.
The poem, a quasi-Petrarchean sonnet, is being archived with other writings about Dover and The Second World War by the Dover Museum, in Dover, England.
This sonnet was published in Sonneto Poesia, Volume 3, Number 1, Winter,
2003-2004
Written July 20th, 2003
Seems as if I have waited
In line or on hold on the phone
Where blatant disrespect is shown
No longer fast service to show
courteous appreciation
Just wait, wait, wait
Without consideration
Take a number
Life is what this is
Waiting for something
Or anything
Or nothing
Waiting for the other shoe to drop
Waiting to see
Waiting to hear
No longer is waiting a past time
Waiting is all the time
Take a number
Do not have a seat
Just wait
Stress high
I no longer know what
I am waiting for
In this waiting game
When I get to the front of the line
The well has run dry
Or there’s a sign on the desk
Saying OUT to Lunch
My life is a take a number life
I have no reason to wait anymore
There is no wait left in me
The other shoe has fallen
The line is much too long
Time is up, the building closed
And now my time has come
I get on the line to talk with God
He asked me what I did while here
I waited, I exclaimed
I waited
I waited to be born
I waited in line to die
But most of all I waited...
On Christmas every year
Hello we are transferring your call ....
Hello, someone will be with you shortly
All of our representatives
are busy helping other customers
Your wait time should be
approximately twenty minutes
Hello, God
Can you hear me?
I waited..
I was next hello; Buzzzzzz..
Inside scrapings of darkness
how restless and doomed,
the bellow crashing in like
an agonized moon;
the tunnel hears blood whooshing
in pits full of rain,
hurling damn imaginings
of her fetus’ pain,
wails rip through the stained window
and grinds near right lung,
heart reeks for a babe frozen
knowing breath is gone;
if I could pluck her memories
from uterine wall,
to touch sun’s glint christening
new eyes on dawn’s call.
-----------
*Sadly,research estimates that approximately 1 in 4
pregnancies end in miscarriage; and most women
experience a grief period during such occurrences.
For Susan's If These Walls Could Talk Contest
I’m sitting at my desk typing on my computer.
My head is a satellite broadcasting a disrupted signal.
I can’t get a clear picture of what I want to write.
The channel keeps changing as I switch between memories and then it happens.
A message alerting me that I am now off-line and the “system is reconnecting.” It’s something to be said about how being unplugged charges you up. I soon began to pick up on a signal as clear as the sound of the bell when school is dismissed. The freedom to express myself is like a jolt of energy.
I was shocked.
I realized in my disconnected epiphany that containing written poetry, with procedural processes for seeking approval, and being paid a cash payment for placement, down to one page is preposterous.
All the glory of poetry and its ability to take life’s pie and divide it into figurative slices is so fulfilling, and to think, I’m usually greedy, however, I’m willing to share my last slice of pain topped with passion and joy but it seems that you’re on some type of “character diet.”
I guess the paper weight was too heavy.
I guess my head was in the clouds.
I guess it was just pie in the sky.
Approximately 250 words can fill a typed page double-spaced.
100 words of love, 100 words of rage carefully placed.
50 shades of feelings reverberating self-induced healing, metaphor after metaphor leaving a reader reeling, the way words and their syllables intercourse with double meanings creating couplets on paper kneeling as if they were proposing to your intellect.
With these words, I thee wed. I promise to be faithful and true, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, till death do us part, so help me, poetry...
I am sitting at my desk typing.
My mind is a sweet tooth that’s tasted a slice of heavenly pie.
Unfortunately, you have to watch what you read and count characters,
and I am done sharing.
This particular mid winter night after a quiet drink at our local
started to venture home, frost in air only light from a half moon,
feeling brave after having a couple of beers, decided to take a
Short cut through our cemetery, approaching the iron gates which
we're closed but never locked, on opening they gave out a loud
screeching noise which seemed to echo across the village, our church
Stood at the top of the hill left of the path, there was a musty smell
in the air, I stood and pondered for a few minutes then started climbing
the slight incline, approximately ten yards in I suddenly heard what
seemed to be a tapping sound, tap tap tap, I looked around my heart
Started to race, everywhere was pitch black, my imagination was kicking
In, walking slowly again the tapping seemed to be getting louder and louder,
I was now at the top of the hill standing outside of the church entrance,
Was I imagining it? Was I really hearing this tapping sound? should I turn
back? I looked up at the moon that was now veiled by shadowy cloud,
must carry on, so tentatively started walking again, tap tap tapping sound
even louder now, then shock horror, my heart stopped, I couldn't breath,
frozen to the spot my whole body disabled at what I saw, taking a few
moments for my senses to resume and coming to the realisation of what
I was seeing and coming to terms with this situation, I gasped and my
functions started to get back to normal at the realisation of seeing an
Old man with a hammer and chisel kneeling next to a grave stone,
I stuttered you frightened me so much that I nearly had a heart attack,
he stopped tapping looked up at me, so sorry he said but they have spelt
my name wrong.
Bags packed, emotions high, vows said I do
Commenced on marvelous honeymoon day
My love now owned my life, isn't it true
Vows made to him, promised never to stray
Commitment to follow where he would go
In my heart, God also knew, my love grew
Husband dear, mate for life, my earthly beau.
Jesus my Redeemer, who brought my breakthrough
My eternal love, I'll follow in spirit.
Earthly love whose spiced scent I follow
Whose right arm has lifted me when near it
Can't go with me or I him through the hollow
Those vows exchanged until death do us part
In our future life, we'll have a perfect heart
Date: 8/2/2022
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Contest: Rhyme Rumi Quote
It is a rhyme even though it is a sonnet. !4 Lines, approximately 121 words
We'll soon celebrate our 60th wedding anniversary. Both have bodies that are falling apart, but our inner spirit is being renewed within our hearts.
He bought a product against hemorrhoids at the pharmacy
The word alone can do many people wrinkle their noses
Product information :
"Should be inserted approximately 3 cm up into the rectum
Keep out of reach of children"
(.... 3 cm up in the a#s, children have impossible access)
Suppository should be stored in the refrigerator "
In the fridge ... he became very confused
20/01/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Through charcoal ash covered sands of time in history September 11th, 2001 we'll never forget
Brave men and women quick to help without thoughts of regret
So many watched on t.v, faces streaming with tears
Some prayed like crazy for loved ones hoping no one would confirm their greatest fears
First tower struck, struck fear in our hearts
Still, communities held together while some worlds felt they were falling apart
Thought to be an accidental fluke was the first 767 that crashed
Approximately 18 minutes later as her twin tower was struck it was clear an attack was being lashed
Foundation of buildings built strong to last
Still couldn't withstand heat from the jet fuel among impact of the blast
Brave men and women worked hard to evacuate and do what they could
Meanwhile, there was trouble at the Pentagon in their neck of the woods
News came that among the World Trade Center the Pentagon was also hit
People collapsed as standing structures did to silently prey where they sit
Yet, another plane crashed in a Pennsylvania field
Passengers aboard didn't make it but died as heroes with their battle with terrorists they didn't stop or yield
Where were you on this devastating day?
Where ever it was I hope you were among others who did pray
The world is still turning
For loved ones lost, some are still yearning
Permanent smokey images sketched of falling debri and structures burning
Lingering thoughts have hearts and stomachs still churning
Nothing could have prepared anyone for the destruction and heartache to come with those four flights
Light a candle for lost innocent brave souls, heroes, and survivors on this night
Drac's the new food taster at Halloween
He dare not admit, he wasn't too keen
For solid food is not his natural cuisine
But Satan chose him instead of Wolverine.
First to be tasted was the eyeball terrine;
A little bit jellified with some crunch in between
He quickly counted approximately thirteen
His face flushed a shade of Frankenstein green.
After eating the innards of Jack Ripper's spleen
He grabbed a bone toothpick to pick his teeth clean
He suddenly screamed, making a terrible scene
Someone laced his drink, with some garlic poteen.
Then came the dish of pig heart and sardine
Which apparently is full of fish scale protein
That tickled his tum as it slowly went in
Later gave him the shivers as it crawled out from his skin.
A head on a platter kept rotating full spin
Made him feel dizzy, like he'd been drinking blood gin
With every slow turn it gave Drac a sly grin
Then gave him a wink from an eye in its chin.
He spotted a sausage, its skin a blood vein
Filled with minced bat then sealed to contain
Drac nearly vomited, but managed to retain
As the food kept coming again and again.
Last on the list was a bowl of mashed brain
Sitting on top of a mini ghost train
Drac thought it tacky, tasteless and plain
Until he noticed the gravy blood stain.
The food went down well, no undead did complain
The ghosts even liked, the toad quiche Lorraine
The issue now is, who blocked the main drain?
Who's going to tell Lucifer and try to explain?.
Halloween Monorhyme Contest
Sponser Caren Krutsinger
Written 28.10.21
The sunset's just light leaving here
8 minutes just to watch it disappear
Just a ball falling into the mouth of the sea
But when I'm with you and you are with me
It's like closed eyes seeing for the first time
We're both getting older and wasting time
The sunset's like the light of the day
8 minutes just to watch it fade away
Though it always comes around
As soft as love without a sound
A collage of colors raging to fill the sky
Like a beauty always changing, destined to die
It makes me think of me and you
Live and learn and begin anew
The sunset's like the moon driven tide
8 minutes just to sit and enjoy the ride
Low to the ground hoping to be found
The sunset will always be just a sunset
Without love in your heart to let it
Always come back around
For Gail Angel Doyle's
A Ripple In Time Contest
NOTE: It takes approximately 8 minutes for the light from the sun to reach our eyes. When you see the sunset it actually set 8 minutes before.
Approximately twenty years ago
I met the lady down the lane. I’d see
her once a month, and well I got to know
this lady whom my church assigned to me.
Each woman’s duty in my church it was
to visit other sisters – just a few-
to make sure they were doing fine because
it was a helpful Christian thing to do.
“My lady” was the term I liked to use
referring to this woman twenty years
my senior. In my visits, we’d amuse
ourselves with tales of children and careers.
She’d had a lot of kids and they were spread
from California to the great midwest.
For more than fifty years she had been wed,
and now with many grandkids she was blessed.
A journalist she’d been – so sharp; so kind!
Things changed. She disappeared from down the lane.
Five years ago, dementia stole her mind.
“My lady’s” tales I’d never hear again.
Dedicated to my friend, Sister Marcella Walker. May she rest in peace.
March 23, 2020
for "The Lady Down the Lane" Contest of Craig Cornish
Ode to God
these simple things we ignore
the breath we breathe
the life we live
the hair on our head
our fingers and toes
approximately
the closeness of our skin
the times that we are alone
but yet not alone
3/20/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Harold John Bray, Jr., Seaman 2C- The last surviving member of the iconic Navy vessel the USS Indianapolis. The Indy was a capitol ship that just returned statewide for major repairs and refitting, following a Japanese Kamikaze attack at Okinawa. Nine members of the crew were killed, a somber time. Harold enlisted in the U.S. Navy the day he turned 17 in 1944. He learned how to drink Navy coffee when he lived in the barracks at the end of Mare Island, California while the ship was being repaired. Every day he would ride a train to the ship until it was ready to set off on a top-secret mission: delivering components of the atomic bomb destined for Hiroshima. On July 30th, 1945, while crossing the Philippine Sea the Indy was struck twice by a Japanese Submarine. It took just 12 minutes for the ship to sink. Approximately (900) of the original (1,195) crew members were able to leap into the water before it went down. For almost four days they floated in the oily and shark invested waters. The survivors watched in fear as they saw their peers being eaten alive and vanishing beneath the sea. After the sharks feasted on the wounded, they left, leaving half of the men still clinging onto hope for life. Many more lives were lost because they drank the salt and oily water. 316 men were rescued not through a search effort, but by pure chance. The Indy tragedy is a tale of haunting endurance, forgotten sacrifice, and the crushing silence that surrounded a mission intended to help end a global war.
aboard the Indy
Harold Bray- seaman 2c
the last survivor