Best Back To The Drawing Board Poems | Poetry
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Back To The Drawing Board
by Asuncion, Bernard F.
back to the drawing board
by Akinyemi, oluwatomiwo
Back to the drawing board
by McDermin, Michelle
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The Best Back To The Drawing Board Poems
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Featuring: Keith :)
----------------------
Fresh sand garments
The Mental Colosseum floor
Self-infliction's--waging wars
----------------------
~ AND THE POEM BEGINS ~
A mask, tiny holes
Breathing heavily
Dancing around my toes
Broad carbon steel
Safe behind my will
Equipment of revenge
Fencing the world with my eyes
I bow, with the morning dew,
My mind a dual in its own world.
When the curtains lift,
I prepare myself with a weapon--
Epee Crest to protect my chest
A sword sharper than fangs
I circle my blade around the door knob
Ready to face the world
Practicing --in hopes today, I won't retreat
“Fencers ready!"
ATTACK!
A magical knightress
Painted in white
"Let's dance!"
~ THE SHOW BEGINS ~
Queen Amri "VS" The Damsel
Wishing it was over
Stainless steel echoes
“Every poke counts”
Hoping & Taking
No room to disengage ---I retreat
Peacefully I secure my stance
On Guard!
I lean in, I disengage ---I flee
Back again, I lunge
The Queen is too smart to retreat
I -Amri, parry away from the argument of the lunge.
Recoil & Double tapped
In and out….. I'm struck
Boldness---
Back to the drawing board
On guard, I stand like a statue
Out of breath; feels like I'm dying
Yet I am still fighting.
The Queen knows what to do.
TODAY~
I Yield, She Wins!
Raising our foils
---At the on guard of another day
I move in swiftly, cutting like razor blades
Using refreshed energy
24 / 7
I attack, She provokes!
Sand runs its course
Victorious against the queen
Touch – tied – triumph -- Touché
Standing on my own 2 feet
I am the
-Grand Finale Show-
Conquering The Battles Inside
TODAY~
-I WIN!-
by; PD
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
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Allow me to be disgusted at the jest
and your halfway happy surprise at the end result
of the missile timed precisely:
Did he just splatter?
And allow me to feel the brunt of the bruising
upon my saddened heart, where for others was felt,
from laughing hard.
Yes, all lives matter
Even the ones who don't bear
our national colors
our political expectations no matter how wrong or right
For just this occasion let us get back to basics:
That was a human
ten fingers and ten toes
perhaps a wife and family to call his own
but do you even know?
Or even care to think
beyond the face of it?
Getting kicks at watching the Live Leaks
of people being blown to smithereens It bothers me
That one should find it amusing
Does it bother You?
---a single tear of blue
is all I'm asking---
Who he was or what he did
what difference does it make?
When life closes the lid
all we have is the acknowledgement:
That was a human A human
What if those pixels on the screen
were all that was left of that man's memory
would you still find it funny?
And yet still we turn to Facebook Enlightenment
with quotations that decorate a sniper in a holy moment ---
"And oh God. One more thing.
Ignore my enemies heathen prayers
and help me send those bastards
straight to hell.
Amen."
(The amount of "likes" are disheartening
and should be a sin.
Where's the "vomit button" ... ?)
Reading through the comment's section,
like poetry for the juvenile,
and the criminally insane.
No Alka Seltzer No pills
I'm riding this crazy train unprotected
as if I'm dying for a thrill.
Dying ... at the very least.
Queasy at the vertigo of a nation
acting to love and loving to act
(Nineteen-Eighty-Four called,
they want their plot back)
And have you read empathy such as this?
ROFL, mate! That's classic!
(you have a doggie bag on ya, by chance?
I think I'm gonna be sick)
That was a human
A HUMAN!!!
And you call yourself a Man of God?
Yet still feel compelled
to pull back His Grace to your own ends
... that slippery tide
between your fingers
As if infinity could only be stretched so far;
it won't last long my friend,
before you look into that celestial mirror
scared at what you see
Is that me?
Yet still you wear that outpouring of love
on your neck like a trophy
as if you even deserved it.
a single tear of blue just one
can you give it to me, son?
t h a t w a s a h u m a n
And do you even care?
Does it phase you in the slightest?
Or does a coat of arms
give you further reason to divide?
Jesus died for all For all
All that upheld the American flag
as equal to His words.
All who marched to the beat of the drums
drowning out the birds.
All who bravely proclaimed: We are Heading to War!
We are Heading to War!
And all those who never asked: And what for? What for?
Do you feel its beating on your soul?
S h o u l d
I t a l k
s l o w?
(the unwritten verses
you added long ago)
It doesn't even matter now,
because all that remains
is what's been left on the page.
All that remains...
Just four sad words
like hopeless sand
slipping through my fingers
That was a human (or at least it was)
Before Man forgot what he had,
Believing he could do better,
Egging the Almighty to play his game
... back to the drawing board, smirked the Creation
And what about you, Dear Reader?
What will the eulogizer speak
in your honor
when the lights out?
That was a monster
He won't bother you now
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
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She sits perched, like a gorgeous gargoyle, upon the boulder
splotched with spots of mint chocolate ice cream moss - the wind tasting
her lovely locks as if it were spicy cinnamon straight off the tree.
It excites the senses (to put it frankly) watching her gaze
pierce the sapphire roof of the world
with a challenge to be met.
Or was it the twinkle in her smile
that shone like polished ivory, reminding me of the legalities
of elephantine tusks, and the slippery slope of falling
for that gracious grin and hallowed hope.
It could just be, she's got a lasso on my heart,
that takes delight in my vertigo - flipping and flopping
much like an oval shaped wheel.
I'd ask her to grease the hinges, or go back to the drawing board,
but to tell the truth - it adds character to the path
digging dangerously into the dirt dutifully
causing a spray of pebbles to the face of normalcy.
It could just be, that letting go ain't in her vocabulary,
reeling me in like a big fish story in one of those backwater
little ponds, that spawn such discrepancy.
I'd say she's a catch, but that would be cheesy
(though that does bring to mind her chef-like tendencies,
plopping strawberries on my tongue with little tidbits
of Wisconsin sharp cheddar)
It could just be, that life according to Miss Ooh-La-La
couldn't get any better ...
... then again it could just be
I'm waxing eloquently.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
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The eye is such a braggart with its emerald this and hazel that.
Does no one dream about an ear or a nose?
(personally ... I find the shin and pinkie toe quite fascinating)
But it is a place the Poet seldom goes,
still hot on cornea fever ... stanza after stanza after
stanza.
It's like I'm part of a Dickens' novel: A Tale of Two Spheres (oh dear)
Velvet pupils coming at you ... (attention spans beware ... we're discussing EYES)
... but what about the palms and the cowlick?
(do you have the gumption to make it poetic?)
Or is it back to the drawing board - sleepless nights
excavating further facets of the dead-lights.
I know its "infinite depths" make you sigh with Shakespearean fervor,
but really, enough is enough,
when there's so much more of me to love.
Have you so quickly forgotten the beauty of a rose?
(plug your nose and see how it goes)
I want so bad to see that lovely weirdness
chilling out beneath your temples.
I pray it's not too much to ask for a little ink spilled
to the one who showed you piano,
the sound of rain, your mother's voice.
(that curious curvature holding up your glasses
deserves a rhyme or two
... not another verse
about my baby blues!)
Just once I wanna hear someone say,
Your nose makes my heart run ...
Your chewed off fingernail brings to mind the crescent moon ... !
For your next Magnum Opus could you spare some room
for the underdog anatomy.
Did you know I have a crooked ear that's more endearing
than a heart carved into a tree?
Didn't think so! (iris hog)
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
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James Gareth is what you call me Destroyer
No charge but released by a good lawyer
A technicality as my names Gareth James!
That’s Gareth first, now I’ve shot you down in flames!
Oh, and my H.C. Hammers, did you want them back?
They may need a wash as they’ve been half way up my crack.
I know they are your favourite undercover police clothes
The cap that came with it, you want that back I suppose?
That must be the cap you was on about?
You shot me! Zap, Zap zigidy Zap
Is that all you could come up with? Put on your thinking cap!
Back to the drawing board, you must go
Find some words, none of yours offend me so!
I called you hot, I remember, for that I know
I meant the humid heat coming from your big toe!
My words of yesterday may rot like you said
Mother nature and I, we share the same bed ;-)
I’m surprised you know what a Haiku is?
Maybe you should hang in your gloves, and try a kids quiz?
I think you need to chose a brand new name
Your reputation now, has been shot down in a flame
Destroyed my poetry, for you have not
Your name again, remind me, for I have forgot?
(I said it would take me a while PD!!! Good fun to write though!!)
For poets seeing this for the first time, it is fun autherised fun between the poets involved!
No new blogs needed!!!
Copyright © Gareth James | Year Posted 2010
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When they declared allegiance
Overnight, you would not know
Who is by your side and who is not:
You would not know
If you are a victim or a culprit:
Whether you are prey
Or the hunter,
When the earth threatens
To swallow you in seduced heat
A blast man made and just in time,
It misses you by a whisker,
And yet it's strength
Is strengthened by the ones it struck;
It is then you know
That it was not just a game,
The fact that you survived it means
They have gone back to the drawing board:
They are all condemning it,
Among them are the ones who
Certainly committed it, and cowards they are,
They sing your slogans,
Wear your regalia, your face they want to delete,
That's when you know it was an attempt,
Suicide or assassination;
It is then when the victim
Is the first suspect.
Copyright © Fungayi Elias Ndhlovu | Year Posted 2018
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I sat down many times to write a letter to you. I could never figure out what to say after the greeting. Have you ever felt the same way? To begin a letter and never have a single word to say because you begin and end my sentences? That's what the most sincere form of love is... What did you say?... Yes, and it is the best home baked bread since apple pie too... Oh, I just love you! How can I contain my heart from allowing these emotions to leak out? Perhaps I will sit back down and try to formulate the perfect letter! Or perhaps I will just call you? I can never make up my mind!
Funny; relationships. I was never good at them. How about you? I made it to the two week mark and then I just threw in the towel. I have ran out of towels and I have run out of glue too. There is not a single word left to be said and I still can't come up with a single word to write to you. Back to the drawing board again!
g. rix
1-12-15
Copyright © Gwendolen Song | Year Posted 2015
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The ignominy of buying and
selling
Is disgustingly despicable
The church of God
Has lost its taste
Its flavour diminished
The worldly purview
Is warming its way into the
church
Money is the order of the day
The taxonomy has to change
So as not to bring the name of
God
Into disrepute....
The drawing board we must
go
Checkmating ourselves...so
this excesses will not condemn
us
By not giving to ceasar what
belongs to ceasar
In Gods presence
You reverence Him in its
entirety
Not hiding under the backdrop
Of christian resource materials
being sold
Let's change and digress from
this sinful way
Before change changes us
Copyright © oluwatomiwo Akinyemi | Year Posted 2013
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First look, glasses as my eyes glance
From left to right I begin to read
Much as if I were in a trance
My education faulted for this deed
Second look with randomness I search
Looking for a pattern, no not the glasses
Does this person attends a formal church
This poem is one of their trespasses
Third look now the compulsion takes me
The poem was edited to fit the picture
But I say this isn’t possible, it can’t be
If so they surely deserve a stricture
Three looks, glasses or not, all were done in vain
If you copy, paste, add punctuation then it’s plain
Poem by Wayland Bunch for Occlusion contest. This is a rhymed form of poetry under 20 lines, but technically it fits better into the category of Sonnet, so I don't know if it will be accepted. If not back to the drawing board lol.
Copyright © wayland bunch | Year Posted 2013
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Sleep is fleeting my insides are bleeding
Always on call of duty shine and sheen
I stand outside myself peering from ledge
to cage within-this monster they made-
killing machine
Try to pull self up by the bootstraps
resolve not to wither n' deteriorate-
no more eating all that crap
Oh I made a gallant effort to run
with the rest of the pack-circling-
tearing up the meat-the flying of the fleece
But when pill's fizzing
n' TV's tipping
maybe it's just as well her sensuous pout
remain framed thru window n' mirror's glass piece
So I look down a long empty hallway- nothing changes-
scum! their little feet like rats just scamper by
Now at the top of the T.
only way to go's one way or the other-
do a tally at the rally?- or do the work they should do-
n' be a deliverer on high
They gave me my marching orders
Now down muddy rivers n' indistinguishable borders
Finally got my mission but it's not so cut n'dried
I stand on the boat from the water's edge
All my training still horrified
don't know how to justify killing a Colonel
who's clearly flipped
n' this dense unforgiving jungle's
got his brain totally fried
Back to the drawing board I reinstate
as the rockets in the night fly
piercing screams n' cries
just gotta do what I'm supposed to do-
clean the slate
Oh I guess I'm part of the bigger picture
yet I find hard to distinguish
Who are the drug runners-
n' commie gunners?
The lines are truly blurred
But that crazy Colonel's talk
makes my eyes glaze
besides thru the opium haze
his speech is slurred
so the sacrifice's ready
for the chopping block
So as the plane at last
lifts off from the runway
is my work really done?
'cause I just know one day
I'll face little Napoleon children
who'll grow into gruesome meglomaniacs
n' just take his place
Here I am rolling thru the dusty outback
straining paining to flee
or see the place I cracked
of course I'm not even sure
if I'm officially still on the force
doesn't matter either way
they're running amuck out there
n' they surely gotta pay
N' the road rash is fresh n' gleaming
n' my supercharged cruiser's
flipping n' careening
even though my leather's unravelling
i'm fueled by revenge n' hate
So naturally I'm not gonna
sit 'round n' wait
for some passive judge
to be gavelling
So I stare ahead as the wispy heat
rises off the road
The engine rumbles
my dog grumbles
I remind myself n' console
the scared couple
under rubble of their rollover
don't wanna kill 'em
just gotta get their petro n' go.
9-7-2015 Duncan R.M.Ferguson
Copyright © Duncan R. M. Ferguson | Year Posted 2016
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7/28/17
My soul I will never sell
Even if I got to go through hell
Time will tell
If I'll excel
And propel
Doing poorly or swell
Wherever I dwell
Crooked or parallel from any citadel
And hotel
Are you the lion, cheetah or gazelle?
Can't afford to lack
Got to stay on track
At the drop of a hat
In the daylight or pitch black
Anywhere on the map
They can yap
And talk crap
But we'll see who has the last laugh
Onward and upward
Got to cut the mustard
Without being stubborn
No matter if I get a sunburn
With or without parachute cord
And a sword
Back to the drawing board
Still out to explore for even more
Moving toward
A place far away from the swarm
As well as any horde
Regardless of if it still gets cold and warm
Losing interest or rather adamant and passionate
Occasionally may be the devil's advocate
Among objects in motion or inanimate
Trying my best to stay afloat in ways that are adequate
On purpose this is no accident
Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017
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Lost in my own sorrow
can't even keep a friend
My constant source and window
just slammed in my face
Chalk lines and smudge marks
travel across my face
I just wish to be held
and someone to hear my fears
Anxiety builds
and screws with my mind
One more day and everything
will most likely be fine
Copyright © Michelle McDermin | Year Posted 2011
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It seems you’ve already made up your mind
Rescinded decisions is what u made of l see
Something you need to know pretty well
Before you single out your property and leave
That l got no compunctions at all for the path l took
I won’t even curse the day l met u
Neither shall l even consider forgetting
The very moment when love got sour
But cherish l will the moments we had
Some of those we held too dear
I hope you'll get the compulsory ingredient 4 your recipe
Cope, cope and cope
Cope with your life devoid of me
Cope with your sleep without my arms around you
Cope with your sorrows without me for consolation
Cope with your joys without me to give it the life it takes
I guess you got a message for me
The bells already ring loudly with clarity
To remind me that my time is over
Back to the drawing board l have to return it seems
Now club Monaco awaits me
To hit the pool balls one at a time
As l swallow one, two or more for the road
As l premeditate ma life without you
And get back as you sent mi.....
TO SQUARE ONE!!
Copyright © KIHARA EZRA | Year Posted 2011
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Speaking and living off experience, what I've experienced goes against what I know, like I should take it slow, slow down my emotions I'm soaking in love because I love that feeling, but the cards I been dealing is sort of like the cards I been dealt. I sink head first instead of just taking it slow, so I end up with a lot of deleted numbers, text messages, and burned pictures Yeah I'm filled with love but still I'm drowning in this pitcher I drink from. Painting perfect pictures with my imperfect hands, Yeah I what this and I really need that look at my check list can I really give it back. I'll admit it sometimes I'm double minded but I put away those thoughts like never mind it, trying to align it with what I would like to call Ms. Right, there's no such thing most people change overnight, so in light of my new discovery having the rug pulled right from under me I hate this feeling so I go back to the drawing board, write a new blueprint that's fits me fundamentally and hopefully to find someone that I'm mentally spiritually & emotionally compatible with, story of my life right I guess I'll just dismantle it again. There's no rush I know chalk it up to me always getting so caught up ready to give my all it's amazing this heart of mine isn't tore up, but I guess with every short story I have more to tell than actually show, it's hard to take your own advice sometimes, but I gotta stay meek with the next one and just take it slow.
Copyright © Corey Ross | Year Posted 2015
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she found the best pair of shoes,
she found the best pair of kicks,
she found a shirt that matched the both of
em’ &
she was just
ecstatic,
to say the least---
but somewhere along the way,
before she even wore the combo,
before she got to leave the house,
before she got to
live that new day
sparkling on the inside as the
madam of all
orgiastic
consumption,
the secret got out.
she couldn’t place her finger on it,
just what “friend” found out & then
spread the rumor,
but now every woman she knows,
has a sense of where she got her deals &
more importantly, if they chose to,
now every woman that she knows
can get clothing at those places & now,
this american consuming beauty
needs to go back to the drawing board,
armed with her plastic &
the anger welling up within
from having ever trusted
anyone.
Copyright © andrew delapruch | Year Posted 2013
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I saw your face from afar
You took me by total surprise
I’ve never seen such beauty
You were like a rare sculpture
Your physique was so masculine
You literally took my breath away
If you were just some dream
I never wanted to wake up
I was under your spell
You were so captivating
And mesmerizing
Where did you come from
Wait you starting to fade
Dam! You're just a fantasy
Back to the drawing board
Copyright © Alexis Y. | Year Posted 2017
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HERE COMES THE IN SECURITY
VOICI L' INSECURITE
THAT WALKS GRADUALLY
QUI SE DEROULE UN PEU
SHE ENTERS THE STAGE
ELLE VIENT A L'ENDROIT
LIKE SICKNESS IN THE BODY
COMME LA MALADIE DU CORPS
RESEARCHERS MAKE RECOMMENDATIONS
LES CHERCHEURS FONT LEUR RECOMMENDATIONS
THE PARTICIPANTS REMAIN AKIMBO
LES PARTICIPANTS, AVEC LEUR POINGTS SUR LEUR HANCHES
THE EVENT INSECURITY
L' EVENNEMENT INSECURITE
PROFITABLE TO THE ACTIVE PARTICIPANTS
LUCRATIVES AUX PARTICIPANTS ACTIFS
THE WISDOM OF THE RESEARCHERS
LA SAGESSE DES CHERCHEURS
NOT PROFITABLE TO THE ACTIVE PARTICIPANTS
NON LUCRATIVES AUX PARTICIPANTS ACTIFS
THE PRIORITY OF THE WISDOM
LE PREMIER POINT DU SAGESSE
ENGAGE THE YOUTH
EMPLOYONS LES JEUNNEE
THE HUNTER LIKE AN INTERPRETER
LES CHASSEUR COMME UN TRADUCTEUR
BLOWN THE WHSTLE
DONNE UN COUP DE SIFFLET
GERINIA, GO BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD
GERINIA,RETOURNE VITE A LA PLANCHE
Copyright © AJAYI RASHEED | Year Posted 2013
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The False Prophet took a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was a poem. While
writing it, he remembered, he felt like he was solving a puzzle. Originally, when
Joe Kaye first developed the theory that he had left a message for himself in a
past life, he thought he might have been Robert Frost. He had written this poem,
to either prove that he was or wasn’t the reincarnation of Robert Frost. After
writing it he still couldn’t decide, and he still didn’t know what the message was
that he had supposedly left for himself. He read the paper to himself. This is
what was written on it.
The Road Not Taken-The Reincarnation
TWO paths emerged in greenish pasture
And since it was impossible to go down both
I thought which way would get me to my destination faster?
And wondered if speed was important when running the race
Isn’t it objective that matters and not the pace?
I went down the beaten path with grass so long
Which was dark and twisting, with no end in sight
And even though I stood tall and strong
I wondered if I had wandered wrong
And philosophized if there was such a thing as wrong or right
Although each path was equally unstable
The one I strayed down had more twists and turns
Oh I kept the second path for another fable
Yet knowing how stall leads to stable
I was certain I would never return
I revisit this with a pondering thought
And years from now reflecting on the past
Two paths diverged and still I fought
And took the one that’s hardly sought
And that has made my happiness so much more vast.
In the end he decided he was not the reincarnation of Robert Frost, and went
back to the drawing board studying more writers and poets.
Excerpt From: The Chemicals Between Us
By: Joseph DeMarco
Copyright © Joseph DeMarco | Year Posted 2006
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What are Senses?
A sense of touch
A sense of smell
A sense of faith.
What happens when they are gone?
Scattered to the wind
Weathered by the storm
Coming up empty.
What do we do then?
Start from scratch
Back to the drawing board
Turning over that leaf.
Will we ever be the same?
Time is indifferent
Wounds will heal
Scars remain.
Copyright © Alicia Koch | Year Posted 2014
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Every time I see you, I am afraid to look
For fear that I may stare, and my awe of you will be mistook
As not a symbol of my adoration, but of something otherwise
That's why when you look at me, I tend to avert my eyes
I am not worthy to behold the beauty that you possess
I have you in the forefront, and in the recess...of my mind I always seem to find the words
to say,
But when I open my mouth in your presence, those same words slip away
Now finally I've regained control of my vocal chord
But my moment with you has past back to the drawing board
I mentally coach myself: next time don't be so tense;
And when you speak to her, say something that makes sense;
Don't be afraid, just let it all go
I see you again, and my confidence goes from high to low
My hands get all sweaty, I'm just not ready to be with someone seeming so perfect
My mind says tell her how you feel,
but I can't...I'm just too nervous!!!
Copyright © Arcene Janvier | Year Posted 2010
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Speaking and living off experience,
what I've experienced goes against
what I know, like I should take it
slow, slow down my emotions I'm
soaking in love because I love that
feeling, but the cards I been dealing
is sort of like the cards I been dealt.
I sink head first instead of just
taking it slow, so I end up with a lot
of deleted numbers, text messages,
and burned pictures Yeah I'm filled
with love but still I'm drowning in
this pitcher I drink from. Painting
perfect pictures with my imperfect
hands, Yeah I what this and I really
need that look at my check list can I
really give it back. I'll admit it
sometimes I'm double minded but I
put away those thoughts like never
mind it, trying to align it with what I
would like to call Ms. Right, there's
no such thing most people change
overnight, so in light of my new
discovery having the rug pulled right
from under me I hate this feeling so
I go back to the drawing board,
write a new blueprint that's fits me
fundamentally and hopefully to find
someone that I'm mentally
spiritually & emotionally compatible
with, story of my life right I guess I'll
just dismantle it again. There's no
rush I know chalk it up to me always
getting so caught up ready to give
my all it's amazing this heart of
mine isn't tore up, but I guess with
every short story I have more to tell
than actually show, it's hard to take
your own advice sometimes, but I
gotta stay meek with the next one
and just take it slow.
Copyright © Corey Ross | Year Posted 2012
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In a mass of black out there in the beyond
Planets we know are in mirror respond
This vast we know as space in our time
All the planets are round symmetrical in rhyme
Will it's orbital allowance defy negative stream
Or is it back to the drawing board for man to again dream
Spaceships cubed with edges severe
When Warp allows will our technology wear
We live in a streamline, a streamline world
Our planet in decline but will our future be heard
The lucky ones will see, out there
For the unfortunate, saying goodbye in stare
And all they will see, is the moon in their sight
As their earth will become, another sleeping satellite
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/space.php
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
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People have second thoughts all the time.
With no reason or rhyme
It is even a mystery to many.
second thoughts happen all the time
I had this happen to me just recently
Thinking I would get published, what was I thinking!
Putting my self out there is way too scarey
Second thoughts happen quiet frequently.
Well I guess it is back to the drawing board for me
I will just wait a bit longer to see
If my dream becomes my reality
Second thoughts happen more then you know
I' m hiding again in my shadows
I am having second thoughts on this publishing thing.
Copyright © cory long | Year Posted 2011
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If the foe is far too strong for you today,
just save your strength, backtrack very cautiously
that you may still live to fight another day;
go back to the drawing board immediately,
a prudent retreat really matters as much
as a crushing assault carried out quickly;
patience, guile, perfect timing make the difference,
there are no flawless stratagems of attack,
only short-sighted strategies of defense!
Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2008
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Perception is troubling everyone,
Everyone is being disturbed by an ego,
And our feelings tell us of what might happen next to this state of life,
We`re really waiting for where mankind will be after all is gone.
The voyage is deadly, and we feel thirsty.
Seeking chances from the seamen is very challenging,
If it is compressing our hope, then where relies the possibility of our arrival?
The faith is wiping out in spite of the confession.
For the joy in here is finding us cases,
Who dares to be the source of our strength?
Belief is digging ditches to stomach where and what we see before us.
Here in my heart is full of deception,
Of course, you to…
Perception is sketching each and everybody in personal conclusion,
Inextricably, complication estimates the distance between our two.
Bringing so much from our mouth is the end product of what the heart can`t house anymore.
The falcons in the air sees what’s below,
How I wish to be flying above tempting rows,
Still heirs of the promised father, we deem to meet as one in HEAVEN.
We stay warmed moving around without reason,
Yes, the dreams are virtually weightless.
And we`re here in the ship, hopeless.
Slowly are we approaching the tempest way coming from the cardinal point,
“Please do you see me?”
Trials sleeping in every mind,
All that I see in here is not right.
Characters on deadly grounds,
Everyone aspires to be in the best angelic gowns.
All we think about bring out fouls,
So when will the destination be met?
There comes clemency, but not all of us deserve to be a qualified guest.
Imagine what comes after here is a journey to eternal world ruled by human,
It would be asserted on carnal dispensation.
Back to the drawing board, multiples of sailors are weary, man…
Few are they that are causing litigation,
Because their realization aims are lost from their hand.
And they got themselves in the ship through stow away.
However, the wayfarers are also getting to the final point of the cognizant missions.
Certainly, the experience involved is based on heartbreaks and confusions.
Whereby, individual sensations confide the final destination on despaired cognitions.
Nevertheless, the terminus of life is undiscovered.
Copyright © Anderson Walkingshoes | Year Posted 2018