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The Best Brush Off Poems

 
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Let Go

LET GO You spend your time worrying about so many things You take a little problem and give it giant wings You let it cloud your senses leading happiness astray You fret and whine relentlessly another ruined day Choose your battles carefully all is not as it seems Let go of the small things don't let them ruin your dreams The little things have a way of working themselves out It really isn't worth your while to cry and scream and shout Sort out all your problems push the tiny ones aside You will feel more joy each day less tears you will have cried Focus on your blessings they will never make you blue Choose a fresh prospective each day, a new view This life is full of mountains but when you reach the top You feel it was worth the struggle you're glad you didn't stop Brush off the petty problems don't let them dig at you Let go and enjoy happiness let each day be new. 4-22-2017 (2nd place - "Be Didactic" contest - 4-24-17)


Copyright © Lenna Walker | Year Posted 2017

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Tears On My Pillow

When I feel alone and sad,
 Lying on my bed,I hold on to my pillow.
 I close my eyes,I think Of You,
You are My Sun,My Star,My Moon,
 Shining Up My Sky,You take away my blue!

When I feel alone and sad,
I dream away,Feelin myself,sleeping close to you.
You brush Off my tears,my doubts and fears,
You are My Sun,My Star,My Moon,
Shining up my sky,You take away my blue.







                                                                                          Charma


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2010




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Earth Trillium

silent shadows sing praise to 
gossamer lace the Spider webs

give shape O fearless Wolf,
the night awaits your merciless feast

listen, Heaven calls you Trumpeter Swan!
your voice unites the light above

silent, fearless with blinding light,
all the earth shall rise as one

brush off the sands of man,
whose global scourge shall 
wither once more

claim your righteous throne
as ages have before you

O beauty among the planets
no words remain describe


Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2009

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Dirty Love

So we came undone, stitch by stitch,
it's been far to long but the scars still itch.
Lies start to feed on a love I believed
was specifically designed and crafted for me.
Words once ingrained into our history,
scatter like petals from an over-plucked daisy.
Promised love danced on a breeze of deceit,
then lay with the trash and leaves on the street.
I almost reach down to gather it up,
to brush off the dirt, keep hold of the love.
A girl rushes by with a smile in her eyes,
steals all the love and I'm left with the lies.
I sink to my knees, embracing the ground,
I sense you beside me, you don't make a sound.
You just look so sad.
It's then that I know,
all I can do now,
is let you go.
But I know if I wait where I am, if I stay,
my heart will rupture as you walk away,
and though I am scared, shaking as I rise,
I can't let this last juncture fossilize,
into another moment where you think you win.
So I walk away first, my next chapter begins...


Copyright © Jodie Williams | Year Posted 2014

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Smitten

Cheshire cat atop her throne
Leaving not to all alone
Mice long gone in fear of fight
Be still the home at rest tonight

In maker's bed aloft of pine
Beauty waits in satin fine
Soft rays dance upon her hide
Along side hope the loving bride

Rest not weary eyes once shed
In grace of dainty heros bred
Succumb to whispers sent away
Rise up strong another day

Brush off the blue strung so tight
Brave the wonders in peeked light



Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016

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The Blessed Lie

Wandering an abandoned path
Fearful, lonely and dismayed
A withered spirit broken by one
For a healing hand I prayed

Lift the pain bestowed upon me
Release me from this hell
Assure me now that I am loved
Exalt the heart that fell

No sooner than I spoke these words
You knelt and took my hand
Who are you, why are you here
An answer I demand

I am not an Angel heavensent
Although I could pretend
I am just man that sees your pain
And wants to be your friend

I come without false promises
And lie, I wouldn’t dare
I can not erase your painful past
Or deminish the burdens you bear

There was something in his gentle voice
That set my soul at ease
We walked and talked for hours
Along the river lined with trees

Hours turned to days then weeks
He never left my side
He’d lift me up each time I stumbled
And brush off my foolish pride

Then one day it occured to me
My painful past had been erased
Gone were the burdens that I carried
With peace and love they’ve been replaced

Then I remembered the day we met
You said you were my friend
You said you’d never lie to me
On that I could depend

You said you weren’t an Angel
Sent from heavens door
How could you tell such lies
You are that and so much more 


Copyright © Dawn Drickman | Year Posted 2005

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Caterpillar falls

Caterpillar falls. The dawn from drunk consciousness, awakes from the darkness of night. An eagle stares at the back of wind, then floats downstream till the current ends, and dips its wings in the orange sunrays. The caterpillar slips off a branch of tree to land on the eagle's back. Rustling trees chatter against the wind's brush off. Nature holds so much in her lap, The feeble pointed spikes of flowers shift aside for the green snake to pass. The forget me not plant keeps its promise for the cricket. Oh! It rains and the muggy air, is cleansed by its gentle showers, The loud croak of bull frog match with drops of rain, Empress Nature reigns her endless territory. Contest-A Natural Metaphor. Sonsor-Jamie Pan. 23/1/2017.


Copyright © Rizwana Bhurani | Year Posted 2017

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Preserve The Past

Preserve the past in order 
to make tomorrow a better place.

With the strength of ten
and the mind of one
brush off those wounds
aging the surface
and free up your thoughts

It is there the lessons do lie
where man and nature survive
together we all live as one
amazed with each setting sun 

Listen ...
as the bluebird sings her sweet song
and a hungry child listens along
fly into the breeze and see
this here is just you and me

Restless real beauty lives
deep in the recesses of time
in heart the good mother strives
holding hope for our kind and our lives


Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017

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Sounds Of The Night

I heard a long whistle blow
as it rippled across the pristine
valley, full of glistening snow.
I felt the trees brush off the 
wind as that long, lonesome,
unlit train roared until it's end.

I shuttered deeply from the
bitter cold, for I sensed the
chill of the night's story had
yet to unfold.
Gathering my thoughts I looked
toward the sky and seen so many
stars twinkling undisturbed by
the sounds of the night.

Long glowing walkways through
the dark's horizon, slowly faded 
out of sight.
A nibble at my nose a true reminder
of Winter's frozen bite.
Quite now and stillness is all that is
left, since that lonesome whistle 
headed west.





Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2015

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spilled ink on a perfect verse

This isn't the time to run away

Nor is it the time to hide

they say "use your whole heart

and take a dive"

 

I forgot the past  while I  lay in your arms

you partially held me

became my blanket for the meantime

I swam in you and you in I

threw caution to the wind

I didn't think that eventually I'd cry

well I knew I would eventually cry but my brain

and my heart hadn't made it that far yet.

 

I forgot about the boundaries

and entered unchartered territory

I went places that I shouldn't have gone

because I desired you more than anything

you occupied places in my heart that

should have been left alone

but I unlocked the door for you

and here you'll stay forever

 

I still get shivers when I hear your voice

And your energy makes me feel like I'm a boss

you see the thing that attracted me the most

is that you picked me up when I was lost.

I fell into you even though I knew the cost.

Now my heart will always be thirsty for you.

Like damaged hair it became porous.

 

I don't blame you though. And surprisingly

enough I don't even blame me.

We saw a chance to steal a goal

but ended up stealing things we couldn't keep.

For a moment I owned the property,

even if in secret. But the bank took you back

and put foreclosure on my feelings.

 

Now I'm left scrambling here and there.

I gotta roll my sleeves down and brush off

these lingering feelings. This isn't going to be easy because

 I will still be me and you will still be you. Its like trying to get

away from a walking advertisement as big as the ones in times

sqaure advertising someone whose perfect for you.

 

But that reality is unreal so I put one foot in frount of  me

and slowly start to move.....





Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2011

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Where

Lost out in space
Somewhere God has hurled
A less evil place
A far fairer world

Where one circumstance
I'm allowed to defy
Where I'm granted one chance
To just say goodbye

Where I rip through that wreck
To the seat where you bled
Where I cradle your neck
And hold up your head

Where I brush off the mud
And soothe your last fear
Where I clean off the blood
And wipe your last tear

Where I lay you to rest
And stroke shattered bones
Where you die on my chest
Instead of alone



Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2009

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A Tangled Web of Lies

O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
Can't help but to recall this famous quote from Sir Walter Scott...
When one reads the latest revelations on the financial scandal that is 1MDB...
Touted as a sovereign fund to help the economy of the Malaysian Nation...
What has been revealed so far is a tangled web of deception for the nation...

O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
At the onset of of the saga of 1MDB, it was a sovereign fund entity....
It sourced for billions and billions in cash money for seed capital initially....
Taking out monstrous loans using guarantees from the government...
No red flags were raised, despite reservations from the management...
When the numero uno signatory is the Finance Minister himself...
And it being so he is also the Prime Minister, who is to question...

O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
The wheels of international justice are turning, investigations are revealing..
Convoluted  money trails of obscenely huge amounts to the tune of billions..
From Singapore to Switzerland to Luxemburg to Australia to the United States..
And a couple of other countries with highly principled banking standards...
Are seeking to unravel the this global money scandal with the  highest stakes..
Wall Street Journal expose is churning out scandalous information of the investigations..
While in the home country of Malaysia, political warlords brush off all revelations..

O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
A single plea of innocence was well propped up with tales of donation...
As gifted from individual or individuals, ultimately from a dead Arabian King.. 
Stalwart political warlords were nevertheless resolute in defending...
As a much tainted political leader wisely maintains a eloquent silence...
Even as political foes and the knowing public cry out their frustrations...
Horrified and anxious over the repercussions from this 1MDB financial cancer..

O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!

http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/1mdb-buck-passes-on-to-malaysian.html
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/leaks-show-how-bank-used-by-1mdb-jho.html
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/1mdb-wonderland-saga.html


Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2016

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Corrals and Chutes

Mind all that your pa says
And don’t give him no reputes,
Sit quiet on the wood rail
Down by the corrals and chutes.

Don’t dally your digits
Or dive head long from a horse,
Listen to all your elders
And run your life to full course.

Appreciate grease wood
Ride your life free in wild sage—
Know you’ll not always be young,
And act older that our age.

Brush off your jeans real good
Whenever you do get throwed,
Don’t brag ‘bout a right answer,
That’s where real respect is sowed.

Be part of a question
But never the main worry, 
Take care in what you’re ropin’—
When you catch it, don’t hurry.

Be kind to all critters,
Give them respect they deserve—
Treat folks like you’d want to be
Treated – don’t you ever swerve.

Pass on all that you know
To those that now come after—
Your legacy’s in their minds
With your wise words and laughter.

And in your final years
Enjoy the rest that you’ve earned—
Think back on those before you,
Try to rebuilt bridges burned. 

Teach your kids the same thing
As they coach their own recruits—
Pass on the lessons learned
Down by the corrals and chutes.


Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2008

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La Collection

~^~ Dawn Walking in the dawn, in the forest loud with sound; Hear the birds sing in the trees! Listen to the wind, see the stream flowing free; Touch a leaf so green, dew wet! Do you hear it now, the sound of nature, the song; A song so sweet, magical Choka x3 Written April 23, 2009 ~~ Leaves Colourful leaves in piles, luminous colours for miles and miles. Burgundy, orange hovering, the trees slowly relinquishing, surrendering. A cool breeze makes them dance, some quiet and calm, some leap and prance. The Autumn sky so changing, clouds moving, billowing, shifting, expanding. And in one blustering wind, piles empty where once colourful leaves had been. Sun touches the leaves of a tree, Like a stained glass window scene, to see. Rhyme Written October 15, 2008 ~~ gliding deep clear sparkling snow diamond like snowflakes falling horse swiftly gliding Haiku Written October 28, 2008 ~~ my little garden plant unfurl your leaf send your root deep deep deep tis spring tis spring now Haiku Written April 23, 2009 ~~ Cluttered Dresser Ornate mirror Butterfly hair clip Deep purple antique necklace Doll, of my childhood Pearls, old and yellowed with time Pink glass vase with wilted roses Family pictures Mom's favourite earrings Hairbrush Scented candle, burning List Written November 5, 2008 ~~ On Bent Knees Prayer books waiting at the door, polished pews and stone cold floors. Specks of dust glitter in the light, half forgotten dreams still burn bright. Stained glass windows cast a glow, on bent knees this day my prayers flow. Couplet Written February 2, 2009 ~~ The Book Exploring the city on a rainy afternoon, I happened upon, Ye Olde Book Store; Opening the door, chimes sang out, The store dusty, small and amazing. To the ceiling books and rows of books, The shop keeper, an elderly man, nods; I walk quietly, I feel that I am in church, Alone, I am in this place of books. So many to touch, but one beckons me, Taking it in my hands, I brush off the dust; Opening the book, it seems to me so interesting, I purchase it of course for a small price. Finding a café close by, I settle in to read, The words on the cover seem to be engraved; A collection of poetry by the great poets of all time, Page after page, tattered, yellowed with age. Verse Written April 23, 2009 ~~ The Wind Standing on a sea cliff with salt on my lips, Holding out my hands to the heavens above; Moving past me, a roaring wind, blows my raven hair, Breathing in the sweetness, it whispers my name, Tangled with the crashing waves, the birds soaring, the clouds rolling. Verse Written March 13, 2009 ~~ O, The Glistening Tears You come in the light of day, Through the ornate cemetery gates you come; Down the lonely long road, Past the headstones, row on row on row. O, the glistening tears. With a broken weeping heat, You come, for us your family buried here; What a cruel destiny and cruel fate, Such love that even death cannot destroy. O, the glistening tears. And when the seasons change, And fall winds blow over us resting here; And when winter frost is in the air, And we lay beneath the pure white snow, O, the glistening tears. And when spring comes and flowers grow, You come in the light of day, you come, you come; For us your family buried here, Souls connected by bonds that even death cannot end. Verse Written February 8, 2009 ~~ The Memory Of You Mom, today I saw a girl with her Mom They were so happy laughing and talking Together, mother and daughter, friends I wondered if the girl realized My heart was filled with envy and pain I have so many things to tell you Happy things, sad things, just things Things only a mother would understand Tears came to my eyes as I watched God must have needed a special angel To separate the puzzle that was you and me The pieces that fit so well together Mom, our love is an endless river It will go on and on and on and never end God took you from me, it was your destiny I know nothing could keep you here Our parting words, I love you so much Your answer and I love you my daughter God took you in the dawn but he left me a gift A precious gift, the memory of you Verse Written February 8, 2009 ~^~


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2013

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Christmas Merriment

Snowflakes falling, falling all night
My pine tree adorned, now illuminating under snow
I brush and brush off, unveiling Christmas twinkling lights
Giving the white ground a colorful glow
An appearance of a Hallmark card, I must say
My children gather around the tree in merriment 
Then one by one they form fluffy snowballs
Laughing mischievously they begin to throw them at me
Well you can guess what happens next
Yep, before I was done they are covered in white
Red face and cold we all go indoors for the night
In front of the fireplace tired, beginning to warm
We look at each other and started to grin
Deep belly-laughs replaces the grins
You can't have enough of a good thing


For Nathan's "Christmas Joy" contest


Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve | Year Posted 2012

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The Brilliance Of The Ending Day

Let's sit under the tall, satured elm after the long-gone storm;
its branches, unwavering and steaming, are awfully warm.
They stretch their drooping arms to brush off the remaining hues,
those of a placid sunset turned apple-red.
Hear me warbling along with the shivering mockingbird,
too lonely and in somber mood. He relies on his brain,  
absorbing the faint heat...before he dies of his amorous evening blues,
I should comfort him and soothe his inconsolable pain.
And watching him, I recall the state I was in, miserable and frail...
until I realized that I was missing: a hand to touch me and restore my will.

I have brought a basket of Californian sun-ripened fruits,
tempting and lively; look inside, cast your gleeful glance on it.
Be that eagle with quick claws when his empty guts emit growls; 
pick the ones your palate craves or those with attracting colors.
My pick is that of a yellow apple like your golden hair slightly wet,
it reminds this lover of the delirious laughter chasing another sunset.
Let's behold the brilliance of the ending day which refuses to subdue;
only the sadness concealed in the depths of our souls holds the clue. 




Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016

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Saul Grills Marilyn at a Seedy New Orleans Jazz Dive

Saul’s twinkling eyes took it all in – the platinum hair framing a first-class face, the silvery sheath dress wrapped around a figure that was out of sight, but in plain view. She was definitely the classiest thing in the joint -- Bannister’s by name, a jazz club just off Camp Street in New Orleans – and she was leaning against the side of a very lucky piano, crooning a sultry tune as Saul watched her from his table at the other end of the room, nursing some straight-up rye and taking puffs off a Lucky Strike – which wasn’t half as smokin’ as Marilyn. The ceiling fans didn’t put much of a dent in the muggy air, but that didn’t stop a cold chill from making its way down Saul’s backbone as Marilyn belted out the last few bars of her suggestive little ditty.

When she was done the patrons roused themselves from their stupor long enough to beat their hands together like they meant it, and Saul did the same, then motioned a cigarette girl over and whispered in her ear, dropping a fiver onto her tray. The girl swayed her way over to Marilyn, who was having a tête-à-tête with her piano player. After a few seconds he split, disappearing through a curtained doorway, and Marilyn perched herself on a stool at the far end of the bar. The cig girl muttered the message, jerking a thumb in Saul’s direction, and Marilyn started to shake her head as she turned toward him, but the moment her baby blues locked on his, the “no” turned into a “yes” and she crooked a beckoning finger. He picked up his drink and made his way through the clouds and the crowd till she filled his field of vision.

“Hello, handsome,” she said as she gestured at the stool next to hers. He parked his keister on it. “I understand you’re a private peeper, come all the way from New York City just to talk to little old me.”

“I’d have come farther,” he said, “just to get a good look at you.”

“Aren’t you the charm boy,” she said, producing a Kool from her silver handbag. He lit it. She puffed. So did he.

“Actually,” he said, “I’m in town on another case, but when I found out you were here I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

“Good thing I’m not a bird. So what do you want to talk about? Dicky Delgado?”

“I didn’t know you had a mind-reading act too.”

“Mister, if I could read minds I’d be slapping your face right about now.”

He grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I know this. Delgado’s in a jam and Barry Bason is defending him and everybody knows you’re Bason’s pet gumshoe. I’m just trying to decide which I like better -- the tall, dark, handsome one or the lighter version. You and Bason are a couple of dolls. Although your pictures in the paper don’t do you justice.”

“Thanks. Neither does yours. And you’re right about Delgado. I’m investigating all his enemies, trying to figure out which one of them framed him.”

She crossed her legs. The oh-so-tight dress parted, nearly up to her waist, revealing the shapeliest shins this side of Betty Grable.

“You think it’s a frame job?” she said.

“Could be.”

“And you figure I might’ve had something to do with it?”

“Did you?”

“Oh come on. Sure, I resented that heel for giving me the boot, but I landed on my feet. In fact, I’m grateful to Dicky for setting me on a new career path. I’m moving up in the world.”

Saul glanced around the small, seedy nightclub. “This path leads up? Looks more like a dead end.”

“Hey, don’t let the decor fool you, handsome. This is one of the top jazz joints in the country and the boss pays a lot better than that skinflint Cuban. And a girl could get noticed here if she plays her cards right.”

“I’ll say.”

“I mean by record producers, smarty. All the big shots stop in here looking for new talent. We’ve already gotten a couple of nibbles.”

“We?”

“My husband and I. Bobby was the guy tickling the ivories during my number.”

“Quite a cozy arrangement. Was it that way with Delgado too?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I wonder if you and Delgado sang a few after-hours duets. And when the lyrics got too hot for Dicky to handle he changed his tune to the wedding ring blues. That casts the brush-off in a whole new light, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what he told you?”

“No, but Bason figures it’s an angle worth pursuing.”

“Which proves that brains and beauty don’t often go together, especially in men.” She blew smoke in his face. “Bason is all wet. And you can tell him so.” She got up off the stool. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go change my tune.”

“Hold on, I’ve got a few more questions.”

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. Bobby Trope, blonde piano player and annoyed husband, stood behind him, along with a burly bouncer with anchors tattooed on his biceps.

“This quiz show just got cancelled,” Bobby said. “Time to sign off, shamus.”

“Hi, Mr. Trope,” Saul said. “I hear you barely made it back in time for Marilyn’s show last night. Your flight out of New York got delayed due to engine trouble.”

“Who says I was in New York?”

“The girl at the TWA counter at the airport who sold you your round-trip ticket. Why did you go there? To tend to some unfinished business?”

“Unfinished or finished, my business is none of yours.”

“You got something to hide?”

“Nope. I just don’t like nosey questions from private dicks. But I got a question for you. Are you gonna blow this joint under your own power or do you need a little breeze in your sail?”

Saul glanced at the bouncer, then stood up and turned to Marilyn. “Nice meeting you, Miss Leeds.”

“It’s Mrs. Trope to you,” she said. “Now blow.”
(This is an excerpt from my mystery pastiche novella, "The 'I Love Lilly' Murders"


Copyright © Stanley Carter | Year Posted 2016

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Two Mayflower Matrons-Poem 7

They are the last ones by the peaceful shore
under the gloomy twilight darkening tones;
one holds a seashell in her cupped hand,
a delight for two Mayflower matrons.
Her fingers brush off all grains of sand;
such a revelation astounds even more.

Perhaps in Plymouth they never saw 
a similar one, being far from any beach;
the curiosity they display is very raw,
nothing ahead of them is out of reach.   

Taking a stroll before sunset is utter joy
while their soul search for inner serenity,
but besides stilness there is another reason,
to admire the awesome works of creation.
    
They will take this gorgeous seashell home,
put it on a window sill next to an Amish stone   
whiter than a grand cathedral's round dome; 
no match for the ocean's waves rolling ashore. 




  


Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016

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Everytime I Look Around The Corner

I live a life in a place where alcohol violence reigns supreme/ 
over a dying culture split in se7en groups of se7enty times se7en of rival teams/
 I hear my brothers hollers I hear my sisters screams/ 
I see people live among broken glass like that of many broken dreams/
 I sometimes wish I could not see what my two eyes sometimes see/ 
I cant act blind as if it were just a brush off my sleeve/
 The more I lose in life the more it seems the less I need/
 I try and overcome my own selfish greed/ 
I got a child on the way I now look at what kind of role model I'd be/ 
I was was incarcerated so I must not take for granted for the simple fact that Im free/
 But it hard with tattoos on my face in place where tattoos like mine seem a disgrace/
 Lord watch over me as I take last place in this life game race/ 
It not a matter of being first second or third Lord cuz all I need iz your grace/
 help me to better walk off this destructive road and slow my pace/ 
Just take me now if Im done with your purpose if thats the case/
Because I dont want to live like I got to look over my shoulder right around the corner....


Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012

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That's Why

because…

the hardware store

owner smirked 

when he collected 

my money order

to pay the utility bill

to get the lights turned 

back on.

 

because…

I slept on a worn out

mattress on the floor,

in a bedroom shared

with my older brother

who brutalized me for 

sport, in a trailer on the

edge of a sugar beat field.

 

because…

I was so naïve as a

teenage boy that I was

completely ignorant of a

product called deodorant,

that I often wondered why

people who weren’t being

polite, usually gave me a 

wide berth.

 

because…

on the school bus one day,

a friend from ninth grade,

David Fullington, said:

“hey Dan, everyone says you smell…

and I say-like crap he does!”

 

because…

I would lay on my mattress

at night and hear the legions

of mice scampering across

the aluminum ceiling and 

between the walls of the trailer

on the edge of a sugar beat field.

 

because…

of all of the mouse turds

I would have to brush off

my clothes in my underwear

drawer when I was getting 

dressed for school.

 

that is why,

when I was thirteen,

I discovered a mouse 

trapped neck deep in an

open can of Crisco

sitting beside a sink full

of dirty dishes.

 

looking up at me,

with black dots for eyes,

and his nose twitching,

struggling to free himself,

but hopelessly mired

in the can of lard fat.

 

that I gulped down

the last of my Pepsi Cola

in the 16 ounce heavy,

greenish glass bottle,

and used the blunt end

to plunge the mouse under

for good to die a death of

torment and suffocation

in it’s Crisco grave.

 

and then

I belched loudly.



Copyright © Dan Burleson | Year Posted 2007

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Ever Since

Ever Since

Forever, I loved my mother and father
They never complained or tried to bother
But soon found out I was spoiled rotten
So they stuffed each ear with cotton.

Even though she truly was a terrible three
My sister had always been as bad as me
We would pick a daisy and were lazy
And did drive our patient parents crazy.

Somehow we had raised so much static
Hair stood on end and we became erratic 
Like loser poets thinking that they can
Give poem brush off then use dust pan.

After each perturbing poem was collected
And like a puzzle pieces tightly connected
Results had become a horrible aftermath 
Poets poured water then they took a bath.

Each poem was brainwashed from his mind
Had a great, bright idea and he bee-lined
To you and up poems made others tense
And Soup hasn't heard from me ever since.

James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
We leave at eight PM tonight from Raleigh for
London. Can hardly wait. We are sure that the
Royal Princess cruise will be something else out
of South Hampton to Guernsey, Ireland, Scotland
and Normandy and return. This might be one of 
my last poems for a while.


Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015

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~He Licks The News, To Taste Reality~


Alone these thoughts like annoying buzz,
zealously trample across minds agenda,
beguile what plans I had planned to play.
Yearning for release from ancient scab,
can I not sheath their crashing climax?
Xenon prayers list low and anaemic,
downtrodden by shoe-tied eyes that follow
well worn cracks on streets abandoned,
each a highway leading to Kiev;
vanishing below an abstract vale,
forever just beyond the viewpoint of you.
Understand that I cannot brush-off
grand schemes that like a fight,
tear at this conscience with no weeping.
How to answer, when no explanations
seem to be the only thing of worth,
is it incest to want only to be an absconder,
running away from pointless virtuosi;
jailed within the cell of no IQ,
quartered selection of questions without hadj.
Killing comes easy, just like dust we sweep,
placing debris deep beneath hurled mockingstock,
letting little pieces seep from cracks in cameo.
Onward now, let shadowed steps quell
morass before in monologues we drown.

Nothing guards the truth like scum,
mouthing platitudes with disdain,
overtly sprouted from a slack jowl
like leaking facet of over-filled bravado.
Perchance they may be caught in backtrack
Kedging the clanger they left for scrap
Quaintly sheared to adj:
just don’t let them know in Iraq;
remember the vaginati
in solemn procession carrying a war
shoulder-high so the world couldn’t laugh
however hard it trickled grenades
to immature fingers like gum-drops spilling
gratuitously from some rich git.
Ungrateful, that’s the blind bluff
following coarse imagery of a western haiku;
valediction for dried bones of scree.
Everybody knows it makes excellent TV,
when doe-eyed reporters stutter deaths listed,
debutantes on hells split and saw.
Xenophobic tendencies keep me in sync,
clinging to something, courtesy of my pillbox,
yet I often wondered, whose rule of thumb
beckoned me to open these ideas; stay
zeroed to non-committal syncytia,
alone with these thoughts as they buzz.

----------------------------------------------

The double helix abecedarian. It is a remarkably complex and difficult form. The
structural concept of the form is as follows:

The first line begins with A and ends with Z
the next line begins with Z and ends with A
The next line begins with B and ends with Y
The next line begins with Y and ends with B
The next line begins with C and ends with X
The next line begins with X and ends with C

and so on.


Copyright © Colin Marschall | Year Posted 2009

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My Lack of Lucky Charm

You raise me up above the mountains
You bring me below the vibrant valleys
You allow me to weep happy fountains 
When I walk in your bright alleys

Enormous in envy my heart is
Nervouscited for what lies ahead...fed the bread of blasted-away dread
I don't need a cookie or a kiss
I just want more recognition...intuition inspiration sparks instead...
I weep because I haven't done actions and interactions the way I wanted to 
I deep sleep and reap what I sow and I aimed to do is for the sake of seeing you
Not to see you depart from my arms...I welcome you with open and closed arms
You were my lucky charms...a healing with no harms...

I don't take much for granite
Personal nervous anxiety and stage fright follow me wherever I go, even with my own flow
I'm not falling away bit by bit
Confidence and humility crown my head with gracious, precious glow 

Helped each other out
We were against each other at one point...you were on a different team
I didn't pout and shout 
I just let it be and tried to beat the race of frustration and that test I detest - it was all, but a scary dream 

Breaking by the seams
Mend my torn-up dreams
Your dazzling star still gleams 
Inside of you...inside of me it seems

Unpredictable risk
Spin me around in the bowl
You're my mere whisk...
I know you think me as bull
Just don't think you're top dog 
I dig your beat as a whole
But you're being an attention hog
Stop and think...stop being so self-centered and your music needs some rhythm, sugar and spice and something beautiful and something that used soul and all, you know? Something passionately cool with personality that takes its wild toll 

No longer a people pleaser
I'm a dancer...teaser...
My personality reflect his and her...feminine, masculine sides...
I get so tired of being judged by my confidence...I'm riding my ride of prides and my shadow no longer hides
My ego is on the edge...
My reputation is higher than a hedge
Break me, I dare you, up up and down down feelings 
Dealing with these emo-tions...
Peel away the pain...brush off the useless peelings 
Give me some healing potions

Hurt feelings due to...friend foes 
Territorial like a dog
Bog collects on my filthy ol toes...
Flowing free like fog 

Music so therapeutic in my ears
I longed for the melodious harmony to pound me with eager affection for years
Drama trauma tranquilizes me, Yet strangles me...hates on harmfully 
Rumor has it that I'm ashamed of who I am 
Rumors, like tumors, give me goosebumps
I accept myself for who I am - God's roaming lamb 
I am rocking back and forth like moving camel humps

Fearless fire drives my desire above the ceiling 
The chandelier sky is like a diamond, so dynamic and crystal clear...
I'm under the roof of my father...slowly healing
Holding on to everyone and everything I had and have in this day in age oh so dear...

I'm just a nervous wreck I suppose around these crazy, cawing crows
I got out of my comfort zone all alone, on my own
Doing be nosing into my business of poetry and prose
Around strangers and fans and friends and family...I'm a nutrition-lacking back bone
Ima comin' ho-home
So I will I will make my my way
I know where to roam 
I'm coming to my haven today

I'm truly trying to maintain balance
In a spunky prance while I crazy dance 
I'm on beat on fleek and I am a beat geek
I'm a creative nerd that writes with his might till my hands grow week 

I can't guarantee that I am a lucky person
I lack lucky charms in my life, left unharmed
Effects of the bible have taken course in my life...consequences of my faith isn't quite done
You are pretty charming...with your speech of charismatic optimistic confidence - under your spell, magically charmed and then...ALARMED!


Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2016

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Fading

For this, my darling, I swear you're to blame,
Gave you a last chance and you didn't even notice,
I turn my back on the magic, already started to fade,
I take back all the kisses, the embraces come back and
Warm my lonely arms. Swallow all my words and
Choke up yours, brush off every touch then soon
Forget your voice. Couldn't care how you style your hair,
Whether you choke on the spray, if someone else
Curls up with you and pulls it all out of place.

I'll walk the journey alone, pass by your house, sun
Piercing me as it leaps from your window, makes me
Frown. For all the weeks and months you've made
Excuses I think I can manage by myself, can do a 
Better job than you. Could do it without cutting people
Out of my life.

Should I see you in the street then I know what to do,
Stroll right on by, too busy to speak to you, no room to
Fit you in. Won't reply if you say hello, just wander home, my
Red glazed eyes proof I'm over you.

Hadn't time in your life for me yesterday,
Just gave me more time to run away.


Copyright © Sarah Jones | Year Posted 2008

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Arkansas Anxiety

Have I fallen to the back of the line
Have I finally conformed
and forgot where my home is
Not really, not in the least
I've just preoccupied myself with relentless faulty tasks
distracted myself with treacherous emotions
Maybe reason why my goals have yet to be obtained
I only managed to have one successful, unforgettable year
to show for my dedication and concentration
As much as I try to step up
go beyond the boundary line of what I hope to achieve
laziness kicks in or a depression shaped lightening bolt
blasts the mountain I previously scaled
and sends me tumbling back down the base
I realize I just need a break
I realize I just need to leave
I'm just ready to leave
Homesickness keeps locating me on its GPS
and I can't fight it anymore
5 days, too long of a wait
3 days until my birthday celebration
2 more school days to pull through until I'm home bound
No repeats, I know I eventually have to return
but I need this time to brush off
all the pressures, all the expectations
and everything in those bad memories still haunting me
Could you picture a day where
I'm smiling, laughing loudly and having fun
being the kid I want to be instead of taking on
the responsibilities of the adult I've not grown into yet
Somehow 365 days without breaks is my job because I manage
to work my fingers to the bone
It's time to break my cycle and get some air
time to go home and see everybody
I haven't seen in two years
All these plain faces and infamous places
are becoming old but aren't going anywhere
I just want to go home...
time to break the cycle
Get some fresh air and finally be free
Time to go home to the unfamiliar faces and famous places
I really miss
Time to finally just be...Me


Copyright © Crow thepoet | Year Posted 2016