Best Condone Poems
You, who are so perfect in my eyes, so beautiful- adorable, and I, so flawed, ugly, damaged and crawling with defects; why do you enjoy my company?
You, who are so sleek and slender, humming with a quiet intellect and a serenity about you, and I, so grossly overweight and pretentiously boastful and nervous; how can you abide my company?
You, who are a paragon of patience, so understanding and self-assured, and I, so insanely impulsive, so myopic and brimming with self-doubt; how do you stand my company?
You, who are so sweet, so considerably kind, so thoughtful and generous, and I, so bitter, so selfish, so self-absorbed; why do you choose my company?
You, who are so self-composed, full of self-control, so sound and stable, and I, so very neurotic, so completely compulsive and verily volatile; how can you tolerate my company?
You, who are so diligent, so driven and ambitious, so achieving, and I, so lackadaisically lazy, so uninspired, so complacent; why do you settle for my company?
You, who are ethical, so moral, so very virtuous, and I, so corrupt, so unprincipled, so wholly wicked; how can you endure my company?
You, who are so normal, so well-adjusted, so conventional, and I, so maniacal, so unbalanced and irrational; why do you condone my company?
You, who are bubbling with charm, who loves unconditionally and is absolutely accepting, and I, boiling with rage, fueled by misanthropy and incredibly intolerant; how can you welcome my company?
That you love and accept me for who and what I am, is a treasure beyond measure. I cherish your company, but why you cherish mine is something I cannot fathom. All I know is that I love you, my dear, beloved friend.
**This was written for two very dear friends: Karen and Tommy :)
***I also love palindromes ;)
*****FREE VERSE OLD AND NEW ENTRY
In the morning storm
he hums like a bird,
but words do not form -
for he can't be heard.
Catatonic eyes,
reflect hypnotised.
As he holds back cries
he feels paralysed.
Anguish from the pain.
Suffering alone.
Wounds begin to stain
hurt he can't condone.
Empty from despair -
character forlorn.
Nothing can prepare
broken hearts that mourn.
He's miserable.
Lost and dejected,
so vulnerable,
feeling neglected.
Melancholic mind -
fragile like flowers.
Dismal days a grind,
he counts the hours.
Insecure with life,
for it makes no sense.
Inflicted with strife,
sorrow makes him tense.
He sits on the ledge.
Breathes one last deep sigh.
Looks down from the edge -
waves the world goodbye.
Silent One
Simple Musings
11 October 2017
If I could live in a perfect world
where nothing would be strange
and nothing would be spoiled,
Could that be easy to arrange?
If my house were built upside down
and I entered from the roof,
I would be a perfectly happy clown
but you would think I'm a goof.
The eye of perfection to me
may not be what you condone,
but I would find happiness
if ice cream came in a larger cone.
I think it would be 'toadly' riveting
if frogs hunted us for our legs
and humans would start ribbitting
when in our coffee we found dregs.
My perfect world would be mellow
if I painted it with my brush
I could make the oceans yellow
and on me all guys would have a crush.
Perfection! It's like beauty to the eye
of anyone who wants to behold.
All you need to do to give it a try
is allow your imagination to be bold.
2/12/16
You have no idea how much you'll be missed
We've seen each other every day for years
Though you've touched my lips, we never once kissed
Picking me up when I was brought to tears
Calming my nerves before something new
Bringing strength to get over my fears
It seems so scary, not sure what I'll do
Good times and bad, exciting or lame
You were always there to help me get through
Life without you just won't be the same
But it had to end, something I've always known
It's finally time to put out that flame
Our love I can no longer condone
This relationship which I now regret
I need to learn to get by on my own
All that you have done I'll never forget
As I butt you out, my last cigarette
Written for TERZA RIMA about anything you like - poetry contest
I would like to spill,
What is harbored in my soul.
I would like to say,
Things that no one really knows.
·
I’d apologize to you,
In a measurement beyond the stars.
For not being there with you,
Has left my soul this scar.
·
I’m reminded of the heartache,
From that dreadful day.
Of an ordinary time,
When God took you away.
·
I would’ve quickly taken,
The fate that you have faced.
Than to see your children suffer,
Savoring sorrows aftertaste.
·
If I had straps on my shoulders,
Attached to an antique plow.
You’d see deep ruts in the earth,
From the weight I carry now.
·
I’m harvesting my burdens,
In my open fields of pain.
In the drought of happiness,
Awaiting a smiling rain.
·
I’ve cultivated memories,
From the 3 years you’ve been gone.
Laying on glistening blades of grass,
That I cried on sorrow’s lawn.
·
I reminisce on the tears,
That only my heart knows.
Waiting for bouquets of smiles,
From the seeds I just now sowed.
·
I’m sorry you faced such madness,
Without me along your side.
And things could have been better,
Perhaps you would have survived.
·
I’m sorry I didn’t call you,
To distract your vivid mind.
But I replay those what if’s,
All the freakin’ time.
·
No one knows my heartache,
Of not biding my goodbye.
These are things I’ve harbored,
Way down, deep inside.
·
It feels like you’d still be here,
If I’d used my earthly power.
I’m sorry for not distracting you,
From your darkest hour.
·
This is a poem I had to write,
To regain my inner control.
And release my encumbers,
To unburden my soul.
·
You will always be my best friend,
A notion I’ll never condone.
You know I’ll await your answer,
When God calls me home.
_________________________
For Christie and Sharon's
"I'm Sorry" Contest
The wound inflicted, you will never see,
for it lies in the recess of my mind
Internal is the bleeding; let it be!
You try, but peace of mind you can not find
Who is the God you worship? Speak His name!
I want to know; does he condone this pain?
Is He the one who let you maim and shame,
and will he bless you for your proffered bane?
I wonder how you can to slumber yield
Does not your deed weigh heavy on your heart?
The things you've said and done are not concealed
Your conscience surely pleads amends to start
The wound inflicted you will never see
But there is One who sees inside of me
Eileen Manassian
I reckon some folks prefer a hound dog lyin' at their feet,
While others might enjoy a twitterin' parakeet.
But be it a mogul's mansion or a humble flat,
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Thankfully, my cat doesn't bark or scourge my pristine lawn,
Nor does he wake me for outside relief at the crack of dawn!
Furthermore, my dear old pal I seldom have to holler at;
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
My cat is content to have me stroke and brush his hair,
And happier yet if he can snooze upon my favorite chair.
A master of his realm, why should he ever want to roam?
Without an inscrutable cat, a house just ain't a home!
While he reposes upon my lap and I stroke his silky fur,
Ain't nothin' more relaxin' than to hear his soothin' purr.
He won't condone a walk, I'll certainly grant you that.
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
His independent airs and a few stray hairs I can tolerate;
Even my chair nigh the glowin' fire to him I will abnegate.
I 'spose you could enjoy a snake, pot-bellied pig or hybrid rat,
But a house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Cat Poem Poetry" Contest
A shattered heart; tears spilling like rain
No one would ignite the flames of my desire
To this, I swore an oath to never love again
until the kiss of a friend, kindled in me a fire
His touch was not expected, but felt so right
He quoted poems of Byron and then his own
Poetry 'neath the stars, I fell in love that night
I gave myself eagerly; my heart did condone
We walked along the shore, clasping our hands
He pulled me close, then we began to explore
A time of awakening was not among my plans
I quivered in his arms, wanting so much more
My oath was then rescinded, but I'm not at fault
I'll blame it on the moon, the glimmer of stars,
and passionate kisses that unlocked the vault
to rid my wounded heart of its jagged scars
~ Inspired by Katie Melua's 'I'll Blame it on the Moon,'
written by Mike Batt.
Don Trumpty sits down on this throne
He’s crying and emits a loud groan
I can't believe a word
Said by this lying nerd
Like Epstein's acts I can't condone
The Epstein files revealed the lies
Of princes and powerful guys
Flight logs show Don Trump’s name
But deflection’s his game
All wrong doings, Trumpty denies
His evil deed’s he can’t suppress
Truth Social's his form of address
The chump should be banned
From the shores of Greenland
Small wonder the U.S is a mess!
Oklahoma just passed an executive order
About the obvious disorder
Of letting men break through the border
Called a women’s bathroom door
Which has always been there for
Keeping out men and furthermore
Those who are men no more
Oh, some may scream, ‘where are their rights?
They’re out there fighting the fights,
To pee with one’s wearing tights.’
Yes, but would you let your daughter
Much too young, with hardly a care
Into those bathrooms alone
With a ‘whatever’ that shaves its chest hair?
And whatever else the ‘whatever’ may share
Is that what you would condone?
OK, may say no to athletes competing
Even if their male body parts were deleted
With women on equal ground
The women don’t need that type around
To race against for athletic glories
Like AI competing with us for poetry stories
But still why does a government
Need an executive order to present
The obvious difference between gals and guys
Even when one or more’s in disguise?
Well, it’s the same old trick with a new bent
Pushed by the bought and paid fed government
They cloud what it means about gender
And try to stuff family morals in a blender
So that when they offer their crisis solution
We’ll bow down to their wicked resolution
Of their digital money and total control
Over all our bodies, minds, and souls
Partially paved by those with a men’s skull
Who can no longer use a urinal
I've been contemplating the tastelessness of the soup being served on site.
The difference between what's sweet and sour is noticeable in every bite.
It's not just the infusion of artificial intelligence that leaves the soup bitter,
but poetry that's been stolen from others that stinks worse than kitty litter.
Months ago it was perceived by many PS poets, that there had been an influx
of so called 'poets' posting 'poetry,' but quite frankly... most of it just sucks.
And then there is the returnee woman who holds contests entering her own
with names who returned with her in a scam that no one should condone.
There remains the do-goodies, who continue to claim they've been victimized
but that story is so old that it is known as garbage and needs to be sterilized.
A butcher, baker and candlestick maker, who burns his candle on both ends,
still hangs around but nothing he says is believed and cannot make amends.
A quill is meant for writing and not for fencing with neither parry nor thrust.
Take care who you accept to be a friend for it's not always one you can trust.
I've turned off commenting or the trolls will be feeding on my every word
those floating in soup's toilet bowl, who should be flushed like a stinking turd.
I'll also post this as a poem in the usual manner of poetry on this flawed site
for those who wisely don't pay attention to blogs where bullies post smite.
The soup kitchen needs a Gordon Ramsay visit to free it from rats and mice
because it's been infested with toxic waste that some have labeled 'spice.'
Not who you think I am
6/22/26
By Dustin Branum
I’m not crazy, I’m lost....
I’m not depressed, I’m suppressed....
I’m not lying, I’m selective....
I’m not paranoid, I’m aware....
I’m not high, I’m enlightened....
I’m not weak-minded, I’m indulging....
I’m not hateful, I’m disgusted....
I’m not resentful, I’m resilient....
I’m not angry, I’m expressive....
I’m not wrong, I’m open for the debate....
I’m not picky, I’m exploring my options..
I’m not mad, I’m disappointed....
I’m not rebellious, I’m standing up for what’s right....
I’m not selfish, I’m protecting mine....
I’m not denying, I’m refusing to condone....
I’m not enraged, I’m enslaved....
I’m not unstable, I’m unstoppable....
I’m not delusional, I’m conclusional....
I’m not stupid, I’m far from it....
I’m not deaf, I choose not to listen....
I’m not resisting, I’m refusing to bow down..
I’m not dangerous... to all....
I’m not a con, I’m a prophet....
I’m not dismissive, I’m filtering....
I’m not evil, I’m confused and tired....
I’m not woke, I’m awake....
I’m not okay....
I’m not you, I’m not me no more either....
I’m not accepted, I’m rejected....
I’m not jealous, I’m in envy....
I'm not a psycho, I'm a Scorpio....
I’m not for sale, nor doomed for hell....
I'm not the warden of this jail cell....
Love is a word, too easily used
A mental state that's oft confused
No warning shot does Cupid let fly
Before his arrow strikes the bullseye.
It's thought Love spreads as a wildfire,
heated flames of uncontrolled desire.
It left behind a heart that was torched,
Wounded as if it had been scorched.
For admitted poems, there is no ill will
though uncomfortable as winter's chill
for contentment I've found on my own
No paramour do I seek nor do I condone
No longer a reason for a swain to linger.
Nor lyrics sung by a balcony singer
There's nothing I want that I don't have
Nor in need of ointment or healing salve
From a precipice no one should dare leap,
Fall from a steed, nor lose a night of sleep
Nor tumble further down into an abyss
while waiting for that unwanted kiss
Realize when it's time to just walk away,
Hold emotions you continue to display
No words of unrequited love written
will change a heart that is not smitten.
As bitter as these simple lines may sound,
It's an honest attempt to be honor bound
to reflect on love's hope, thus conceived
but not returned, so don't be deceived.
Move on to other flowers without regret
One who'll receive the honeybee and yet
accept the offer of love and have it returned
by one for which your destiny has yearned
Years with you in a throne
My queen, in the rain we flown
We nurtured our love, so it grown
Memories we shared, wont condone
Our heart sealed in a diamond stone
Life with you was all I have known
now I must take this journey all alone
travel to a far land of an unknown
endure this pain all in my own
destiny split us, for that, I groan
I am at loss and in my own
so much tears, my eyes blown
my body aches and melts to its bone
our heart bleeds with pain and torn
one portion for you to own
the rest for me to shown
in lonely nights I must mourn
I say to you lets take a walk...to laugh...to chill...and simply talk.
Let’s start heading across the rocks...and go beneath the streets of Rome.
Let us take a break from our feet...down a path right beneath quaint streets,
This is the place where all roads meet...where I’m meaner than Al Capone,
And I could simply make this easy...but your mind will not be blown.
You’ll never see your children grown.
For I thought you was my best friend, but for now you will face your end,
You’re heading there out of your sin...to no light...no love...or cell-phones.
You’ll dwell in torment forever, birds of feather flock together,
In this hall there is no weather, the only echoes are your own,
You’ll rot in disgust and your shameful heart will always be alone.
My love for you...I will condone.
With such greed life karma prevails...and in darkness your bones’ll dwell.
Doesn’t matter how loud you yell...no one will hear that high pitched tone.
I vent all of my frustrations...without any hesitations,
After my retaliation...of this sweet revenge I will prone.
After kicking you in the face...what’s this...is it bodily foam..?
So un-brick the bricks to the dome!
And I don’t care if your legs hurt...for this is how you made it work,
You built your tomb under a church...right beneath its’ big golden throne.
Now behind the mortar you cry...and no one can bade their goodbyes.
My friend...you used to smile so wise...who smiles now as the other moans..?
You love what you can’t have...life...I’m done...revenge has proudly shone.
You’ll die behind the wall of stone.
All of your hate and jealousy...is buried with greed and envy,
You’ll fade from earth as unworthy...right beneath other dried up bones.
Here’s my remorse...wait a minute...clear my nose...on the wall I spit,
Your ego fits nicely here...I’m starting to like your new home.
I’ll let you be with a marker...that I have engraved out of chrome.
“The center of the catacombs”.
_____________________________________
The form is Trochaic Octameter
Iambic pentameter serves as the substitute.