Best Coerced Poems
The smile on my lips
is forced and coerced
I pretend to pay attention
give the best possible advice
everyone praises me
I'm so kind, polite and nice
It's all just automation
I rarely actually listen
certainly don't care
all I'm doing
is playing human
blending in
fitting in
I'm so perfectly hidden
you'll never even
see a curtain,
from where I stand
Majoring in social events
Put on a pedestal
for computing with you
I'm so perfectly hidden
smiling from time to time
Labeling those
with all sincerity
open mind every day
Passing along appeal
continuing to fit in
blend in
pretend
force program
Is it just me or
am I the perfect human?
I have the rhythm of a winding road
how do I consign myself to being confined...
rows of poplar pillars prop
rendezvous canopies beneath we meet
—I self-cajole on ooh-la-la afternoon
yellow eyes; daffodils watching
lean into gossip groups nodding
a prodding breeze instigating deep-freeze—
I am a sweet weed in this place of sway and betray
with a stranger I stroll my arranged betrothed
height of his black top hat challenges trees
much like Corinthian columns
guards of an aisle I must walk —dear God! must walk
trepidation trips down my bridal spinal column
tiger eyes; lilies watching wish they were me
dare they dream they could uproot their roots like me
wish they could wedding waltz like I must —like I must
but their envy-leaves remain embrace-less
—I secretly envy lilies’ arms empty of yet unmet love
daffodils; empty-headed —laugh
they try to read my mind to fill their own
what do I care of their curdled thoughts lemon tart
and orange lilies’ with their brocade brimstone
what do I fear of fire-breathers burn of words
undergrowth feels the square heels of my lace-up boots
post impression grows more expressive than first—
beware French tongues of sundew and burdock burr
marriage-carriage rolls in ruts to Versailles
where my coerced corset of hooks and ties lie
rhythm of a winding road dies in minuet strangle-hold
Plunging, lifting, plunging -as wind blew ashes all around -
the shovels' blades incised the cold and black encrusted ground.
Attached to shovel handles were the arms of skeletons - of men,
who pausing, hacked and wheezed; then bent and smote the dirt again.
With bruised decrepit bodies - and coerced - they struggled on
beneath a sky from which the sun for them had long withdrawn.
And seeping into nostrils came that too familiar stench
when shrieking had died out, and still - they toiled at the trench.
Perhaps they dreamed of tunnels; that the cracks within the earth
inflicted by their shovels formed a path to their rebirth.
What horror in the knowing there were no more tears to cry
or that their bodies - shoeless - might, in graves they’d dug, soon lie.
First posted 5/6/10
Entered in the '2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8' Poetry Contest of Mark Toney
Entered Feb. 5, 2023
for 2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' Final Placement Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Loyalty and honesty mean everything to me
It is not always easy to find
Yet I have found it here on Poetry Soup
With a poet so supportive and kind
He has my back completely
Supported me when l was openly wronged
Never to be coerced by empty poetic words
His sincerity and loyalty unwaveringly strong
I just wanted to say a huge Thankyou …..l appreciate you so much!
the smile on my lips
is forced and coerced
I pretend to pay attention
give the best possible advice
everyone praises me
I 'm so kind, polite and nice
its all just automation
I rarely actually listen
certainly don't care
all I'm doing
is playing human
blending in
fitting in
I'm so perfectly hidden
you 'll never even
see a curtain
from where I stand
majoring in fronts
put up on a pedal stool
for computing with fools
I'm so perfectly hidden
smiling from time to time
labeling those
with all sincerity
open solitary
passing along an appeal
continuing to fit in
blend in
pretend
force program
is it just me or
am I the perfect human
for p.d's collaboration contest but I wont say who wrote what part.
They whipped Him
And stripped Him
They tried Him
Crucified Him
They nailed Him
Strength failed Him
They mocked Him
Hurt rocked Him
God forsook Him
Pain shook Him
They hit Him
Spit on Him
They pierced Him
Coerced Him
They hung Him
Thorns stung Him
They slapped Him
Snapped at Him
They riled Him
Reviled Him
Yet He remained dumb
None He did condemn
I was one of them
Saviour Lord Jesus
From sin, He frees us
With love, He sees us
I was not worthy
But, He’s trustworthy
And hence praiseworthy
I’ll praise Him
Gaze at Him
Worship Him
Tight grip Him
Adore Him
Implore Him
Exalt Him
Consult Him
Glorify Him
Satisfy Him
I’ll thank Him
Bank on Him
I’ll love Him
And prove Him
I’ll bless Him
Profess Him
I’ll trust Him
Discuss Him
Cling to Him
Sing of Him.
08.02.2021
There is an art to s i l e n c e,
a beauty in its presence,
when a natural choice.
From the fragility of b u t t e r f l i e s,
to the majesty of sun kissed petals,
an affinity with sparkling stars,
a kinship with the mysterious moon.
Sometimes solitude
is a sanctuary of serenity,
a delicacy of desires and dreams,
elegantly expressed through words.
Yet there is tragedy in it's creativity,
when free will is s t i r r e d
in a cauldron of hurt.
In the manifestation of misery
a mute tongue is a slave to s i l e n c e,
coerced through a nightmare of NOISE
In the crisis of sound,
Satan serenades with your sanity
in his playground of instability.
Deafening s i l e n c e is an illness,
a curse without a remedy
in the stillness of suffering
we can hear a heart breaking
crackling, bleeding - s u f f o c a t i n g.
In death's doorway of destinies,
time is a speechless nemesis,
a reminder that fate has no v o i c e
but in a microcosm of metaphors
there is a province of poetic perception -
when we are s i l e n t
we still have our words.
A legendary tale of love I know
about two very brilliant people who
were soul mates living centuries ago.
They shared much hardship but their love stayed true.
Truth seeker Heloise sought Abelard.
Great teacher of philosophy was he.
But people’s thinking in that time was marred.
Then Heloise got pregnant, secretly
the couple wed, but Heloise was forced
to give her baby up, which broke her heart.
When Abelard was maimed; both were coerced
into monastic lives and lived apart.
Found letters prove their love could never die.
Together in a tomb in France they lie!
March 6, 2020
for Chantelle Anne Cooke's "Your Favorite Legend" Poetry Contest
I guess it's not 100% certain that they are together in that tomb because their remains got moved around. For sure, they are together in the afterlife!
Eleven months without physical harm
is a blessing she cradles in her arms.
One more month remains of living unchained.
Soon life might lose the dread that threads alarm.
As his time serving overseas dwindles,
her coerced endurance holds less kindle.
Her thought onslaught is worry fraught and serves
images that swell in her heart and nerves.
She lives aware that one second can swerve
a life into despair no one deserves.
He might die or be maimed at the finish line.
In her mind, September is a landmine.
Fears make wishes to become unaware,
be numb to thirty more days of warfare.
She knows as a premature lamenter,
she wants sleep until the end of September.
Infinite fields of the mind
Mowed down
For what is natural
Is now a fictional story
That free thought?
Probably
Behind those bars
Or under house arrest
The free mind
Coerced into submission
External forces
Wiping the colour
Gods of a black and white universe
Gradual decay
Of the child’s smile
And the innocent euphoria
The present
Is the future we talked about
The reflections in the mirror
Are robots
From the sci-fi movies
Soul is caged
While the body roams
Roams under submission
Eternal war
Bulls and the bullied fight
Feverish soul
Do not doubt
Walk on the road
Do not look beyond
If you want to live long
Shh.. They’re listening
They are listening
“I” is just a concept made by mind. Siddhartha Gautama
Mind has to dwell in a coerced seclusion:
mind is a prisoner of the conclusion
that mind is mine. I share your letdown,
my mind. Minds cannot shatter the illusion
of the first person singular pronoun.
5/6/2019
Writing Challenge 3, August 2019- Five Lines- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
THE MUSHERS RIDE OUT
Air colder than the heart of death
Surrounds the champion teams
And crystals dance twixt every breath
To paint this Arctic dream
Critics who think these dogs coerced
To run in mighty races
Need only bask upon the sight
Of eager canine faces
Commands are sharp , mistakes are few
The lead dog thinks for all
And like a whisper wrapped in wind
He hears the mushers call
No whips or sticks strike dogs who lead
It’s months and years together
The musher and his dog who leads
Are minds that think together
As mushers wait and dogs stand tall
All eager to be gone
The darkness lurks beyond the lights
And in a shot they’re gone
Well-wishers line the barren streets
Where winds are arctic whips
While satellites will flash the sight
From warmth the newsmen quip—
Fools of Tourists dressed all wrong
will scoff at cold life dangers
These careless tourists wander off
At risk to rescue rangers
a girl a child a life of 12 years
a by stander an innocent with no sense of fear
coerced, bribed, begged and beckoned
kidnapped, stolen, beaten and threatened
the thoughts now that run deep through her head
is how soon will they find me or soon will i be dead
he gags her, he ties her, he drives her to his lair of death
her heart, her soul, her mind will soon be at rest
he picks her up and puts her in a cold damp room
shes scared as she shivers and ponders her doom
he needs her so he feeds her as he keeps her alive
so he takes her and he rapes her for his sexual thrive
as daylight draws near and the sun starts to rise
all you see are dry tears that flowed from her eyes
with bruises and cuts and blood from her thighs
she was pure no more in her killers eyes
he despised and hated what she had become
unknowingly ignoring what he himself done
his anger and temper begin to arise
as he contemplates death for this young girls demise
he cuts off the cord from the lamp on the desk
he strangles and chokes her until her very last breath
then he drives her and dumps her small body to rest
the next morning they find her with a note on her neck
saying I HAVE JUST STARTED SOMEONE IS NEXT!!!!
"Light travels faster than sound".
A fact that appears quite unique.
Conversely, sometimes people appear to be bright,
until after you hear them speak!
Things don't always stay the same
if you know what I mean?
Consequently, "Change is inevitable".
(except from a vending machine)
Patience can be a misnomer,
so don't let yourself be coerced.
The "Things that come to those who wait",
are what's left, by those that got there first!
To get "Justice by going to trial",
can turn out to be kinda fruity!
You're putting your trust in 12 people,
not smart enough to avoid jury-duty.
What is "a fine and a tax"?
Well friend, it's easy to tell.
A "fine" is a tax for doing wrong.
A "Tax" is a fine for doing well!
I've gone thru all my poetry notes
and this is the best I can do.
It's probably not what you're looking for,
but I'll leave that up to you!
Ralph Taylor
I am alone but never lonely in the night.
Dusk beckons from the garden. Oh, night, sweet night of mine!
My bruises fade into the ebony sky, camouflaged in twilight...
Hideous scars are obtrusive in daylight.
I shun the blinding sun. I despise the white, hot spotlight.
Under clear azure skies, where can I hide? Night shelters from all
I am and all I can never be. Yes, you understand me...
The darkness is a quilt sewn by God's own hands.
My security blanket, a comfort falling from grace.
Jasmine explodes as I stroll through the misty air of night.
I walk in solitude and dine on the celestial confections
in the delight of wakening blooms. I dance
through their showering reflections. I am queen of the imperial sky!
I reach for the glass slipper drifting nigh. Yes, you know me...
Velvet robes cascade over my bare skin like mountain streams.
Gentle hands stroke the nape of my neck, the feeling familiar
yet thrilling. I am alive and reborn in starlight!
Moonshadows play peek-a-boo like mischievous children.
My playmates, do not abandon me. Your laughter is my serenity.
Crickets serenade from swaying grasses. I am uninhibited under their spell.
The winds drape me in their tender silence, never loosening their grasp
in my dreams of contentment. Yes, you feel me...
I am parched...Oh night, you quench my thirst with your succulent nectar!
On the cusp of midnight, the ripening fruit clings to the vine.
I taste the exotic fruit, a glorious surprise!
I run wild from daybreak, my desire cannot be tamed.
My thoughts cannot be coerced or contained.
I am free under the twinkling, watchful eyes of the sky. Yes, you see me...
The night bursts forth invading my soul as I bathe,
drenched in blossoming jasmine. If I am dreaming, never wake me from
my starry night to plummet to a waiting reality,
a reality I may never know, never understand.