Best Civilly Poems
The Sun will shine brighter tomorrow when
We treat one another civilly again...
When kindness, courtesy and grace
~ Once more ennoble our race...
The Heavens will smile pleasingly when
Men and women guard their tongues and their pens...
When modesty trumps 'fashionable nudity'
~ And the latest style on the rack is humility.
Categories:
civilly, culture, fashion, future, society,
Form:
Rhyme
Goshen ghettofied,
born and bred
Yeah, I’m the teen darkie
with the big nose
and the nappy head
Rolling with my homies
on an asphalt bounce,
with the music on blast
Yeah, we’re the young darkies
with the big lips ...
American society outcasts
As ministers of menace, we preach
dem chickens gon come back one day at last,
and lay some righteous eggs from the past
We’ve been called: Wall Street squatters
and ivory house doubters
We’ve been caged
disproportionately and dispassionately
When they feel our riot rage,
only then do they
ever wanna truly civilly engage
When they feel the anger heat,
only then do they
nervously open the door of the cage
Skid marks on our backs ...
concrete jungle death-trap metal violence burn
Skid rows across the tracks ...
poverty check delivered on a low-income tax return
America’s always bragging about
how they benevolently set their beloved slaves free
But from this darkie’s point of view,
the invisible chains of racism ain’t never been off me
That’s what these monkey big eyes see
Gorilla glue truth is super strong sticky
My peeps and me, like I said:
We’re born and bred,
Goshen ghettofied
Gospel truth be told: It’s commonly believed,
and the ghetto pain never lied —
on the day we were inner-city born,
the certificate said it was the day we died
Categories:
civilly, identity, perspective, racism, truth,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Do the deed,
Just succeed,
Do it yourself,
In your own wealth,
I want to be better,
In lighter weather,
Airy was the day,
You took my pride away,
None left to find,
Just tapes to rewind,
Cultivate the mind,
Achieve, Succeed,
Please just breathe,
Life is easy,
When you’re breezy,
Feel the pain I’ve felt,
Through the years,
With lack of wealth,
Busted baby,
Well maybe,
Never top notch,
On your watch,
I’m always amazed,
By how you’re crazed,
I’m on the ground,
Never to be found,
Push harder,
Nearly murder,
I feel drained,
Deathly pained,
Improve my mood,
You’re just plain rude,
Wait for the day,
When I go away,
I’m sure you’ll smile,
At least for a while,
Putting up,
I’ll put you down,
Hear the sound?
Come around?
I’ll teach you truth,
I’ll show you youth,
Civilly, Liberally,
You see I’ll be,
What you never were.
Categories:
civilly, daughter, dedication, family, father,
Form:
Free verse
She laces this dark late winter's evening
with white manna grace,
flowing flying frosting
folding in and over and around
dark naked tree limbs
Dressed up and out
under ice limned networks
down in-flowing rivers
emptying onto cold cover
of frozen lace-flake
shivering shimmering
sad season
Hovers over what had been
pedestrian front predation lawn,
now transforming and mesmerizing
ecstatic ice crystals
Twinkle in response
as their ice-flame children
follow in post solstice pilgrim path
to die their individuality
within this here-now scurried view.
I smile, perhaps flirtatiously,
within shy winter's virgin dream,
a stubborn storm of snow
softly settling
quieter than white noise still
so so civilly right,
a silent black then white
bright moving set
frames a roundly wonderful life.
S/he is not smiling back;
I know that
But I feel this cold embrace
teasing tickling of too-perfect beauty,
hope imagining S/he could sleep
within heaven's blanket
Dream down Her winter's rain
for deep composting thirst
to drink through walls of hibernating glad
brewing spring's warmest winding offer.
This could go on all night
free of freezing fright
This reverse stalking
inside window peeper out
across front and back porches
Glazing Gaia's grace
elational transfiguration,
silent musing ecodrama
shows off Her magic show
for those with ears to see
through silent first snow
of momentous perennial occasion
Falling just in time
to brighten this sad day for dreams
of Beloved black in white Communions
spreading EarthMother's silent storm
Of love,
impossible to ever sleep
deep same again
Unlikely to become unlover,
to uncover
supremely white slippery cover.
Such elegant purgation grace!
I would dishonor Her
to break such silent sleep
within surrender's coldly storming space.
Categories:
civilly, beauty, nature, race, silence,
Form:
Free verse
See someday! Without a sound,
In the calm midday of midsummer,
That hard by clump of woody willows.
Standing, lay your soft shoulder with one’s meek bark,
Under and amidst the bending branches
So clement and lingering.
Civilly! Eavesdrop the brown sparrows talking in soft shade;
Look at there, the animals, feeding in the pebbles-pasture;
Visit, the humble herders, their tall goats, their big-headed dog;
Hear, the roaring of that rocky creek, the din of that bouncing brook;
Smile at the low lying cloud, stare long those cedar- woods:
Of mine ear, of mine eye,
For me, for me, for me, O friend!
Categories:
civilly, nature, romantic,
Form:
Free verse
A Drop of Water
I look up into the deep sky
And the clouds as purple as a bruise
growl at the dry, crumbling earth
with condescending looks
they know that it yearns for the nourishment they carry
in their bloated bellies
I inhale the damp air
twirling and grinning
as if I can see
the hesitant drops
bracing themselves for the free fall
And the first drop hits
the very tip-top of my nose
I laugh
because I can hear the thirsty soil slurping
up the water in its agitation
to sate its parched throat
The tiger lilies behave a bit more civilly
they sip the refreshment daintily
gathering the gentle drops
in a necklace of crystal beads
ever so prettily
they bask in the warm shower
savoring the clean liquid flowing through them
Proud pines fill up their wooden mugs
with the clouds’ precious gift
letting the stream trickle down their sides
but they remain unbending
too full of hubris to admit their gratitude
though they stare up at the sky with unspoken respect
Me, I just stand perfectly still
breathing in wet grass and proud pines and refined tiger lilies
feeling the water streak through my hair
and listening raptly to the symphony
of the tap dancing rain
playing across the weather-beaten pavement
Categories:
civilly, nature, water, tiger, water,
Form:
Free verse
To the U S government
and all your worthless bureaucratic agencies,
but also more importantly
to all you global bankers especially.
Check out my FaceBook page occasionally,
because I have a lot to say about all of you Publicly,
on Facebook for all willing to learn and read.
You Now Have An Enemy Who Will Bring You All Down To Your Knees
Non Violent, Disobedient Civilly and Peacefully,
by enlightening the willing to listen about your devious deeds.
I will name names, I will layout to everyone your maniacal plan,
to dictate the entire world and not just my once very great land.
I will expose all of you to the world in a way they will all fully understand,
My Facebook page is going to be,
One Of The Few Reliable News Sources Available To Everybody.
You messed with the wrong dissident son of a witch,
when you placed me on your terrorist watch list,
but thanks for that kick in my but that now has motivated me,
to never stop fighting, never to stop informing EVERYBODY
the Real Threat you and yours pose to A FREE SOCIETY,
and exactly how little by little you are enslaving My Country.
I'm going to expose all the crimes against humanity all of you did.
I'll expose your Treason, all the worldwide conspired horrors you still commit.
I'll turn over every rock, every single skeleton in your god forsaken closets.
You are my Goliath and I am your David.
You got TheKidster angry, and that was very stupid.
I am Not ANONYMOUS
ANONYMOUS signs off with Expect Us.
I am just a man you have made extremely angry.
I sign off with,
EXPECT ME
BILLY TheKidster on Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/billy.thekidster
Categories:
civilly, patriotic, political, world,
Form:
Rhyme
I
My five-five-fingers of my hands
Zestfully lived In serenity.
The three thrill fingers of my right hand:
Thumb, index finger and middle finger
Stoutly lived civilly and gleefully
Amongst her BROTHERS:
They rested gleefully upon the placid,
SHARP-SABLE-POINTED-DART.
II
Sharp-sable-pointed-dart;
Perched in the midst of the three thrill fingers
And laid rest upon the hungry,
Virgin DUSKY-SHEET, which sprawled
Bear flat on the glossy desk.
The glossy desk accompanying the earth
The earth accompanying its depth.
III
The other two fingers of my right hand:
Ring finger and little finger
Calmly leisure, plopped on the hungry,
virgin dusky-sheet
And lent ears to the sharp-sable-pointed-dart,
Sharp-sable-pointed-dart,
Muttering vignettes of yesterday
Muttering vignettes of today
Muttering vegnettes of tomorrow.
Upon the glossy desk
My five fingers of my left hand too
Laid rest, and eyeballed the sharp-sable-pointed-dart,
Muttering deep thoughts.
IV
Look,
All you who waded through lines:
All you who unearth the heart
Of this earth, hunting for treasures
Pore over my ten fingers.
My ten fingers,
As pure as a full virgin moon.
I have dunked deep my five fingers
Of my right hand with my progenitors
In a bowl of sweet dishes
And nibbled singed YAMS amidst
The thriving vegetables.
V
But my forefinger of my left hand
Never been raised above
To curse the heavens
Never been raised up to pinpoint
My progenitors' homeland
Never had it tasted any depravity
And never will it be licked
Or bit by the savage butchers of Meat
Who loved to fatten themselves on murder
And gratified their heart with
Juicy cup of blood and gore.
© Martins Tomisin 2016
Categories:
civilly, imagery, satire, society, symbolism,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Faces were all aglow this Yuletide with happiness unrestrained!
With ancient carols sung by jubilant choirs we were entertained!
Good folk generously shared their love, fellowship and cheer!
Why can't we celebrate the Christmas Spirit throughout the year?
Malls and avenues were resplendent with glittering decorations.
Gracious folk included less fortunate ones in their celebrations.
Excited children visited Santa Claus, their anxieties to allay.
Why can't we foster the Christmas Spirit each and every day!
Even the dourest of "scrooges" were in a cheerful mode!
Why, even drivers were courteous to others on the road!
Pleasantries were civilly exchanged by rival politicians!
Can't we keep Christmas alive without onerous preconditions?
Kith and kin wished each other warm Yuletide regards,
Including Happy New Year greetings in their Christmas cards!
Speaking of the ensuing year, wouldn't it be great,
To keep Christmas in our hearts free of prejudice and hate!
'Twould be so very simple to keep Christmas twenty-four seven,
If we'd follow The Golden Rule espoused by that Gift from heaven!
To keep alive the Christmas Spirit as our noble goal,
It must begin in each of us flowing from our very soul!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 3 in Sweetheart of Poetry Soup's "Christmas In July (Men's)" Contest -Jul 2010
Categories:
civilly, holidaychristmas, christmas, new year,
Form:
Rhyme
I hear Donald Trump
would love to bring to Republican plutocracy
what Abraham Lincoln represented for civilly warring democracy,
but that anti-enslavement resolution
is too hard for me to focus and sustain
in Trump is DivineTrump Land.
What remains most easily
is Donald Trump
as a Ronald Reagan rerun,
a bit of black and mostly relentlessly white,
although not really quite.
Perhaps if Ronald
had been born as comfortably
as Donald,
then he too would never have worked with his body,
and not so much played with his hands,
to make an honest Abe-ish living.
Unlike Donald,
Ronald actually had experience
working for his mortgage.
Well, almost anyway.
Ronald at least had to act as if he could work to make a living,
and on occasion actually remember his lines on cue,
or even deliver four syllables all in one big mean word,
while Donald invests more in one syllable gestures
at least with half our resident population.
And, Abe had some adolescent and young adult experience
with manual labor
and at least cooperatively owned his own attorney at lawyering business,
while for Ronald,
much less Donald,
these were acting skills
as comforting as heroic horse back riding.
So, no, Donald,
you're no Abe Lincoln,
and only in your happiest imagination
would you be as good at play acting President
as was Ronald.
You're just another plutocratic Donald,
not even economically effective at playing Republican.
I wonder if Attila the Hun
was the logical progenitive cause of Republicans,
as Donald Trumps their final post climate-health conclusion;
most illogically anachronistic
to use white over black not quite film stars with patriarchal stripes
when so much polypathic full-color talent
waits in more multiculturally fresh-aired wings.
Categories:
civilly, humor, political,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Civility and Man: A Historical View
Since man began to populate the earth,
And feel the pull of Satan’s evil ways.
The angels came to teach the fallen souls:
Proposing righteous ways to live earth days.
Decorum had been taught both then and now.
Man, Adam and his wife with death had played.
The badly chosen fruit waylaid their plight.
Enlightened, but from loving God they strayed.
Significance and consequence brought death.
The mortal two began to populate.
So rules of etiquette began to grow.
And man’s new fate embraced their mortal state.
Before too long, grave envy showed its face.
And Cain did not obey the rules, as taught.
He chose a rock and struck his brother dead.
Civility was not wrought in that rock.
When Moses led his people through the sands.
And Father carved some rules upon a stone.
Uncivilized, they bickered, played, and sinned.
Respect for God and His great words had flown.
When Socrates and Plato came around,
Civility…philosophy was deep.
The Ten Commandments were the reigning rules.
And politics gave zealousness a hold.
George Washington and others wrote some rules.
These rules were social rules, not civil laws.
Civility back then meant manner’s guide.
Respecting one another, yielding self.
The hundred plus ten rules, then set in place.
Fell prey to proper conduct’s judging ways.
And judgment for their lacking could be cruel.
If down the nose one’s self-worth found a sneer.
Dear Harry Truman taught a civil dream.
Of unity within the scope of men,
Together working for the greater good.
All brothers hand in hand respecting each.
The world today is filled with hatred’s fray.
Mankind now turns away from loving ways.
The common man believes all shall be well.
Surprise! Civility is on the road to hell.
Good actions are respecters of all men.
With energy beget not violent ways.
Or great travail shall overcome mankind.
Civility to me, most surely means:
Loving one another, there and at home.
Willfully revising loveless thinking.
Rebuking darkness with the light of love.
Unity and freedom…let us ring.
United wisdom drinking of love’s well,
No longer greeting slaughter of lost hope.
But civilly, rethinking plights of man.
© Name withheld for the contest
March 21, 2010
Poetic form: Free Verse
PLEASE PRAY FOR THE WORLD AND FORWARD THIS AS INSPIRED.
Categories:
civilly, history, people, philosophy, socialgod,
Form:
Free verse
You took me so far from myself, that I forgot who I was
A stranger looked back at me in my own mirror
I heard a little girl crying inside, but yet I couldn’t see her
What was that shadow under my dress?
Daddy’s little girl, singing a song, “You ought to been there when the Lord saved me.”
I sang well, yet I was still waiting to be saved…
Don’t you all see me, drowning in hurt being strangled by darkness?
What was that shadow under my dress?
Daddy, daddy, daddy… But you’re my daddy
Fathers sell not your daughters as whores, for if you do your nation will be turned to
Whoredom…
Daddy, daddy, daddy… But you’re my daddy
What was that shadow under my dress?
Being led around by darkness bound by the invisible leash of my innocence
Nothing was the name that he gave me…
If you love me you won’t tell, was the silence of that song he played for me…
What was that shadow under my dress?
Reaching around in my world of darkness trying to find something, anything to hold on
to…
Beyond the point of feeling blue…
Each day, molestation was nothing new…
What was that shadow under my dress?
Asking what more do I have to take before being left alone…
Confusion choked me…
Why?, Was the only food I could eat…
Why didn’t anyone help me? Why was I left alone?
What was that shadow under my dress?
Taking a bath was like bathing in the lake of fire…
Red raw rashes, whips and lashes where the clothes that he gave me…
It was actually a relief when he only beat me by a tree…
What was that shadow under my dress?
Cursed from the day I was born, being taught before I could walk how to pose for
****…
My panties pink with flowers, being pulled off of my body every midnight hour…
Sexual deviance being sown into my DNA
Innocents told me, that’s just the way Daddy’s like to play
What was that shadow under my dress?
Time has passed and Daddy’s gone to and been released from Jail…
Over 22 years he was locked up a sexually violent predator civilly committed never
supposed to sleep outside of a jail cell…
Throughout my life those who have heard my story considered me blessed…
Yet I still struggle and pray one day I can truly understand what that shadow was
under my dress…
Categories:
civilly, childhood, confusion, depression, life,
Form:
At the capitol rotunda
Two senators faced off on
Gun rights versus oversight
Each side bunkered in
Intractable, their way to win
Sharp tongued irate debate
Open thinking went kerplunk
Head to head, noses pressing
Like two rams rutting
One grabbed a neck
The other ruffled hair
Both leaned into a scrum
Onlookers aghast
Heavy breathing, jackets flung
Ties askew, faces flushed
Veins a popping
Fists were clenched, my heart pounding
Spit and foam tossed about
Two old mad dogs yelping
Spin left once, then spin right
Round and round these two locked
Like a chopper blade taking off
Leather shoes and legs flyin'
Scuffing on slippery rotunda floor
Lots have slithered across before
Muffled echoes off the walls
Don't think a punch was thrown
Guards ran in to break the spin
Pull the swirl apart
Just like a gooey sticky bun
'Cept it weren't no fun
Hands grasping foe to foe
Darts of insults still flashing
Reddened eyes, teeth gnashing
Heads adjoined they'd go
Caught their breath, stood up straight
Falling back into friendly hands
Mumbled shards yet flying
They walked away slumping
Like two Humpty Dumptys
Disheveled putting themselves together
Each insisting they were "kerrect"
With hastened breath
I saw it all unfold
Watchers shuffling in doubt
As they usually do
It was a war, weren't no spat
They'll never forget, count on that
See it all on the evening news
Did it change each other's views?
Can we ever talk civilly?
Common Ground is the Solution
So that was yesterday's kerfuffle
Adjudicated by muscle
Categories:
civilly, abuse, conflict, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
In your absence I visited again!
That Last garden and in Winter again.
She was suave, he strong,
Though ‘ere civilly, nevertheless wrong:
Embracing, kissing, in the open ups,
As was, you know!
Wine, served in cups!
The sparrows make it on the twigs of willows,
Standing! Nor any bed neither pillows.
And standing uneasy behind the dead old tree,
Blew of the foggy mount frosty winds free!
Watched stealthily between the leafless boughs of trees,
By the cawing crows, beneath the broken hives of bees.
Sighed in eager, smiled a few,
Ah! I thought of you, Feared and Flew!
Categories:
civilly, romantic,
Form:
Rhyme
The chancy countdown clock of my mortality
is ticking toward some unknown preset alarm.
I’m aware of every taciturn tick tock
in unrecoverable moments spent waiting
for something to happen…
and I do not wait well.
I wait for stiff slices of tanned toast to pop up.
I wait for the microwave’s proclamatory ping.
I wait for endless dreary drizzle to stop.
I wait for supplemental shoes to drop.
I wait for stern scarlet stoplights to glow green.
I wait for stalled responses to emailed queries.
I wait for weighty debts to be repaid.
I wait for market losses to regain.
I wait for unsure recovery from illness.
I wait for a time and place of serene stillness.
I wait to watch news that makes me feel happy…
instead of sadly numb from unrelenting horror.
I wait for a time when love and peace…
are not hammered by hate and violence.
I wait for our warming forests to stop catching fire.
I wait for AI to prove its promise rather than peril.
I wait for a clogged Congress to civilly meet in the middle.
I wait for common sense and facts to regain a following.
I wait for a time when cynicism concedes to optimism.
I wait for the long dark night of our collective souls to end.
I wait for the culmination of all things, large and small.
I wait for a time when all our waiting concludes.
I wait for anticipatory hope of Advent and Eschaton
to authentically, faithfully, finally, feel real to me.
But I’m mired in my own limited perception.
I need another perspective for waiting well.
I recall my life spans just an eye-blink slice
within deep, astronomical, cosmic time.
From the Big Bang to the Bethlehem star
over thirteen billion years passed by,
a very long Advent time indeed.
God must be very good at waiting.
(First published in Valiant Scribe Literary Journal (Issue V, Winter 2024) 46-47. See also my poems “Star of Wondering” and “Bringing Heaven to Earth.”)
Categories:
civilly, courage, death, faith, mystery,
Form:
Free verse