Best Budging Poems
She hangs from the beams from way up above,
Sways not making a sound,
Patiently waits to be noticed by me,
Patiently waits to be found,
With sun pouring through the hole in the wall,
Pouring all over her torn,
Her beautifully dark, broken down clothes,
Her clothes that she had once worn,
And she looks straight ahead, not budging her stare,
A smile escaping her cage,
A smile that’s not even meant to be seen,
A smile that hides all her rage,
And I sit, all alone, watching her hang,
My beautiful obedient slave,
My black and white painting of love on the wall,
In my studio, my office, my cave.
Categories:
budging, art, beauty, sexy,
Form:
Personification
Time to greet or maybe meet
There is a time I could tell
Time for me to go to and smell
But I was budging the gates of hell
So how was I supposed to tell
Unless the bell rings out as well
As I can’t just keep kicking time
Nor never ever have a rhyme
And if I could then I would
Just stand here like I should
As time means place
But place is time
But we both found our own Stime
To stop and start and make it better
So that we both know each other
Like we sent a love letter
DAMO x
Categories:
budging, meaningful, true love,
Form:
Free verse
Faith Without Work
Things will fit better
if you first bother
to measure.
Follow through
on what you ask
God to do.
I do not blame
God who has
blessed you with
a brain
insight will
make it plain.
Progress
requires care
A little footwork.
"Elbow Grease".
Should always
accompany
your prayers.
If your creator
seems distant
he is waiting
for you to put
some "motion"
behind your
E-motions..
Go and become
a steward
of your own
blessings.
what you ask
God to put
into motion,
"claim"
You know all that
"faith"
and no work....
and you
Not budging,
while waiting on
"change".
Categories:
budging, blessing, faith, prayer,
Form:
Verse
When no one else understands
Or seems to even care
One thing that I find comforting
Is that music is always there
Just as the loneliness begins to take hold
When your heart continues for love, to long
One thing that can heal, I’m told
That’s the power of a song
Ballads and anthems, rock and blues
Or perhaps some pop and dance
Of all the many kinds you may choose
Give music a chance
It’s quite amazing, The Power Of Music
So scream it from the rooftops for all to hear
And whisper it in loneliness, when no one is near
Wherever and whatever you are, acknowledge The Power Of Music
Let the notes soothe your heart
And the beats heal your soul
Feel your sorrows and pain restart
As it is restored to your control
Feel your feelings understood, so sing it out loud
Spill the emotions on the floor
Whether you’re all alone or in a crowd
Just know that music is the cure
Therapeutic, consoling, and never judging
Telling you “It will get better soon”
Music provides the heart the necessary budging
That’s the power of a tune
It’s quite amazing, The Power Of Music
So scream it from the rooftops for all to hear
And whisper it in loneliness, when no one is near
Wherever and whatever you are, acknowledge The Power Of Music
Categories:
budging, appreciation, caregiving, emotions, how
Form:
Free verse
We lay bare next to the skin of the earth
watching mercury dancing around the restless sun
playing hide and seek in the burning heat
and penetrating mankind deception in the deep
Venus is orbiting the earth with its piercing light
casting shadows on the desperate arrows
and choking up the heavens
I don't know where they have laid him
but I can feel his current rumbling through the earth
ripping the stagnant river apart
and looking at the moon in the dark
I am sitting here waiting on the unknown
Heart throbbing billows rolling and
the deep blue sky is covering my head
The green trees are still standing tall
waiting for the anticipated fall
Saturn in riding on wings in big circles
it is the rock on which we stand
And it stabilizes the turbulent land
looking for the one who is able
to withstand its fiery hands
Jupiter has been murmuring for years
it has a storm that is bigger than our fears
twisting cold windy clouds over our busy head
erupting the emotions and stretching our legs
Neptune is invisible to the naked eyes but its
water and methane is fasten on solid ice
Uranus is filled with chemical composition
The confusion on earth is position on suspicion
Is this imagination or mere confusion
Mars has been snooping on us from the sky
Twice this week it emerges in plain sight
with its bright orange eye budging from the sky
I have mistaken it for the amber moon
But nature has declared a war to soon
Bees buzzing from the sky dropping honey in the kettle
Mankind queuing up in long lines waiting for a city that is divine
The mystery of life is yet to be found
It is buried somewhere beneath the blistering ground
Something is out there in the unknown
Waiting for the perfect time to make itself known
Earth with its formidable crust has finally open it guts
exposing its intricacy and laughing at us loudly
something more powerful than man lives in deep ocean
swirling and twirling like monster ready to devour
Oh how much I dread this conceited revelation
It is shaking the core of the hemisphere
causing death and destruction over the years
Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune
are bidding earth goodbye as they regroup in the sky
Life mystery is profound and it is found in the unknown.
Categories:
budging, america, confusion, environment, freedom,
Form:
Free verse
I walked into the hardware store,
A place I’d never been before,
And knew that I would surely find
Exactly what I’d had in mind.
The narrow aisles were like a maze
Which led to crowded wall displays.
The owner, deep in heavy schmoozing,*
Left me to my own perusing.
Finally, I earned a glance
And asked him if he had, perchance,
A drainage trap or some such thing
To catch a slipped-off wedding ring.
He pointed to a set of shelves
(I guess we had to help ourselves)
And then went back into his chat,
Not budging from the place he sat.
The whole time I was on my search
He prattled from his counter perch,
Not caring if I would prevail
Or even if he’d make a sale.
I found my prize, he named a price
And handed me my merchandise.
His goodbye smile said, “Good for you!
You found it, like I knew you’d do!”
*conversing
Categories:
budging, people,
Form:
Rhyme
When I was a kid, in the family car
We all knew where to sit;
If the order ever wavered,
Someone’d likely have a fit.
But today I heard of something new
Which tells me things have changed;
If someone hollers, “Shotgun!”
Well, the seats get rearranged.
The “Shotgun!” yeller sits up front,
Right by the driver’s side,
A better view, perhaps, and thus
A more prestigious ride.
I wonder how that’s working out
For I can clearly see
The problems this might cause within
The average family.
Had this been in existence when
My sibs and I were judging,
We would have yelled our heads off
But my mom would not be budging!
Categories:
budging, car, family,
Form:
Rhyme
Absorbing, without reflecting
treading, struggling; collecting, connecting
To the next thing, and the next thing..
trudging, judging, nudging, without budging
a black hole, a decrepit soul
a word, shattered by the herd
..However flattered, its , .. absurd!
To think and to feel
Pretend this is real
To sink, but in shallow water, Kneel
to your lust and your greed
The seed , of your once broken trust
Bleed, just to wonder Why, how..I must. ?
.. yet Were dust, you've condemned us all.
Chivalry WILL fall
All because, i see what you never saw..
Categories:
budging, faith,
Form:
ABC
1/27/23
Remaining a junkie
Continually spending money
Like a dummy
Life ain't always sweet like honey
It's cold not always sunny
They're out for bloodshed, so it turned bloody
They're still racist full of hatred so times got ugly
When push comes to shoving
I'm covering much ground, important matters I'm touching
Still so many bluffing
My family so out of touch with one another, it's disgusting
I've had difficulty with trusting
And an even harder time with loving
I speak truth not bluffing
They continued fussing
These intentions were good-for-nothing
I felt differently, so I put my feelings toward something
It ended up being drink and drugs, instead of nothing
It's not a great thing, but I'm not just huffing and puffing
I'm often buzzing
Taking my time not always rushing
I'm not budging, through sludge continually trudging
Like the cover of a book, ladies quickly judging
Getting shown little love, no wonder I've been bugging
Not until tragedy hits do they come closer and begin hugging
All this endless and senseless suffering
The population continues to boom at the reproduction rate of bunnies
Rarely do I play pool
You thought I stayed a fool
Okay cool
You lose
This has nothing to do with school rules
It's global way beyond Honolulu
For a good cause or doodoo
Categories:
budging, dark, deep, life, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Behind the mirror, the man is seen
Where on our streets surrounded, Friends
Thousands met cold, untimely death
With screamed echoes of souls unrest
Bullets flied, guns blasted ceaselessly
Children dead in their mothers’ arms
Father, for his lost son searched
Found him only, with parts cut in shreds.
Behind the mirror, was the man there?
Our Young children, to soldiers turned
Educated only in field of war
Guns carried, bigger than they can bear
Faught battles, of no cause but fear
To read or write, they dared not do
But to shoot or kill, well informed they were.
The man behind the mirror, how did he rest?
Our babies, dead while he sound slept
In his glorious, paradise mirror he kept
Still offered nothing, but violence more
Promised, inflicted upon innocents, murder
If anyone dared open their mouths to speak
Or, if orders came of his seat to render.
Behind that mirror, my freedom he took
Our homes Burned; our stores looted
Citizens, chased out of a land to love
Forced into exile for years so many
Adapted to a culture so not ours
From scratch, we started to build
Until bit by bit, we rose so high above
Like an eagle, up up and away.
The man behind the mirror, for him I always blame
The color so dark, on our backs stained
Bruises so deep, forever left to heal
Visions of his bloody watch, repeatedly, us plagued
Flashbacks of dear ones loved, Snatched,
And palmed away by cruel, hateful death
With tumbled bodies over bodies
All soiled up into one tiny hole.
Behind that mirror, the man will always be
With blissful look in his red, budging eyes
Wishing evil gleefully, with a dark smile
His laughter,joy, through my anguish I see
My heart beats fast, like a thunder sound
And the more my hate for him increase
Oh how I wish, that mirror came crashing down
Then, a taste of his own medicine, he shall get
Categories:
budging, death, fear, funeral, history,
Form:
Bio
I paint pictures like Davinci-Close your eyes and see the visual picture
I speak from the soul like 'Pac- can you see my visual scriptures
like Picasso- I paint pictures too
it's life in the words I speak- it's life in my literature
I put detail in my art like Pollock do
and some may read this- and think of it as being taboo
yet through my words you can picture my soul like Gordon Parks
I speak from my pen like Alex Haley speak from the heart
i'm like Vango and Monet- difference is- some will follow the G.E.N.E.R.A.L.'s Sonnet
if you want to find me- then through my words you should start
from my soul- to your heart-through my words- you bind it
from my words-the power- like Maya Angelou's you find it
if I overstand- then maybe you understand- my words have no cost
my words are art-I tell you-I teach you- like i'm Ross
my words are as a mural-Wyland- my soul is the sea
travel with me through word in my soul- you may get lost
yet you visualize-you'll see apart of me
'Pac-Alex Haley-Langston Hughes-Maya Angelou-Shakspeare-is art to me
my words is art-and no!-i'm not budging
like Micheal Angelo's painting "The Last Judgement"
-G.E.N.E.R.A.L.
Categories:
budging, visionarywords, art, art, life,
Form:
Sonnet
Day dawns on me breathlessly with drudgery,
Gayless is my countenance to elude the cartload of tasks.
Yeah is only the option that makes me trot with lunch box,
Mayhem is the state of affairs that drain me out and out.
Recuperating with tiny box to resume,
Munndane tasks when everything is drab and drowsy.
Rejuvenating with break for tea and,
Lampooning the lives of others with mediocre actions.
The twilight of the day in the company,
Of sunset stretches for my hand for outing.
Budging an inch by inch with buzzing and bustling thoughts,
Knowing thereby to be in the vortex of life.
Moving earth and heaven to get reprieve of thorn ridden way,
Hoping to make it to stoical life.
That turns to be the tranquilizer of repressing all ripples of life..!!
Categories:
budging, how i feel, life,
Form:
Free verse
Hear Me, O Muse, no moos or cluckings, muckings or horns of fog
Do sound the clamoring claxons of the bardics that be written by William McGonagal o’ the Bog,
That Laird of Lamentations Disastrous, that Scot Wha’ Hey Nonny Nonny,
Laureate of the quite awful woeful grueful stuff that happened a-when Goode Queen Victoria was stuck-in in Buckingham and Balmoral and the rest, recall ‘em, of her palaces oh so very bonny,
All about bridges steel a-budging, assassinations most foul all gone kerplooey,
And many and other suchlike things dire. And then that tasty poetaster who be
Known far and near for all his poems fair about domestical bliss most sweet a-cloying,
Edgar Guest, good ol’ scrivener of the everyday, of pathos and bathos does he sing,
Garden paths and bubble baths and let’s not be forgetting the good ol’-fashion verities,
A poet to speak for everyone no matter who or how finicky, he’s.
Let’s round down to an even three with Rod McKuen, syrupy-treacly and saccharine,
Escape from thought and subject and technique and all things stern or black-and-grim,
As sure as roses are red and violets are blue
And God made the little green apples red but once in a while green too.
I swear I cannot live unless I’m able to read them many times per diem,
At work, at home, in bed, or sometimes while at my BM.
Categories:
budging, hero, hyperbole, nonsense, satire,
Form:
Light Verse
Who wants to know when the War of 1812 was fought?
All hands are up; every kindergartener wants to know.
Who wants to know who invented robotics?
Two kindergarteners’ hands are up.
The others are on their bouncy ball chairs,
Not listening.
“Would you like to hear a story?”
The vote of hands is about half and half,
so I read to one half, and my counterpart plays an
Alphabet game with the others.
Kindergarten makes up their mind, and
There is no budging it, no changing it at all.
“My mommy says that all men are stupid.”
Really! How delightful to be espousing this so early.
“My grandmommy says that all white people are mean.”
Being white myself, I could feel insulted, but I don’t.
“What would I have to do to change your mind about that?”
“I don’t know,” the little five-year-old girl admitted.
“What’s a white people?”
It’s going to be fun now, I doubt I’ll have to change her
mind, just give her the sorted truth that her favorite
teacher is now her enemy.” Too late, Grand-mommy, I think. Too late.
Written May 2, 2018
Categories:
budging, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
busy bumblebee
budging the baby blossoms ...
bathed in yellow dust
high pitched buzzing blows
unflagging brilliant blond wings ...
grand banjour to spring
PLACE : 4 th
Spring Flower, Bird or Butterfly Haiku x 2 Poetry Contest
Haiku poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Date: 15-02-2023
Categories:
budging, spring,
Form:
Haiku