Best Confidants Poems
He tills within the buzzard's flight
this cruel land he calls his home,
ewe and wether, milk and bucket,
broken spirit, ne'er to roam.
He's stuck for good, the laws of nature
guide him, be they right or wrong,
gone his hopes and his compassion,
save for the curlew's mournful song.
Courted by the country lasses,
love can't penetrate this soul,
pain and grief his only help meets,
daily toil his only goal.
Mother, father, gone to dust now,
confidants who'd calm his fears,
struggling with a heavy heart,
internalizing all his tears.
It's back to digging, discompacting
stones and boulders from the earth,
working 'til there's no more sun
in Wales, the cradle of his birth.
Striving against the elements
he stretches every nerve and bone,
every muscle, every sinew,
'til exhaustion brings him home.
Ne'er a smile adorns his visage,
there simply is no time for this,
haggard, careworn, slave to nature,
racked by weather's wantonness.
Two weeks gone, and there they find him,
chided by the wind and rain,
cadavered and condemned to fester,
never to be sad again.
*******
...dedicated to the Welsh poet R.S. Thomas
and his book, 'Song At The Year's Turning.'
America-
s flag flies
high (like the president)
overhead (our cost)
with colors that
don't run....
the race fair
with a head start
and a Barry bonds shot
but the Juggernuats victory
is not mine
nor yours
our victory is lost
and found
here
in the maze....
he drinks shots
when he can afford liquor
but beer
is the closest of his
confidants
both bubbly and bitter
so sad his dear friend
encourages solace in others
that just
don't
at least not with him
have you ever?
drank alone?
the roach from next door
can't get in
and it's raining
it's raining
hard
the drum of aqua droplets
crashing from oblivion to surface
is deafning/horrifiying/ugly
to it's
alien form
welcome to America
little guy
I talk to the trees because they never talk back. Such gracious confidants they are, so non-judgmental; never condemning or criticizing. Of course, I do realize they talk among themselves; still they keep my secrets. That’s one of the many duties of trees.
Trees in a forest;
Silent sentinels never
Betraying one’s trust.
In Native American mythology
The species of feline named Lynx symbolizes
The ability to see clearly, as well as being
The knower of secrets, in terms of what
We hide from ourselves as well as others
I did not ask for this gift
Nonetheless, it is ever present,
Sometimes, I strive to imagine
Having a blind eye for the
Things that I truly see
And owning a deaf ear
Towards what is really heard
Having known many people in this life’s venture
Associates sometimes are distant strangers
And strangers become close confidants
For to see what is hidden from others
Is to observe what is unseen by many
To know that which we attempt to conceal
From ourselves, is to look through the eyes of the Lynx
(pause)
Do these eyes pierce you?
Or do they intrigue you
Perhaps both at the same time?
I didn’t mean to make you shudder
While that smug tone of voice began to stutter
As you became aware of the pensive
Stare, that unintentionally seeps right
Through to the core, those false masks
So neatly worn, cringes upon the prospect
Of those interior thoughts exposed to the exterior
Gazing around a room full of puppets
To their own suppressed ideas
While thinking their inner most secrets are safe
However, the eyes of the Lynx do not lie,
(pause)
Go ahead,
Condemn the wealthy woman
Across the room in the corner
But did I notice a glare of envy?
Laugh at the alcoholic as he
Guzzles down his fluids of intoxication
But, wipe the saliva from your mouth
Persecute the two woman as they sit arm in arm
Was that a flicker of fascination I detected?
For now, I too will wear my mask
One of innocence and vulnerability
And saunter about the room quietly
For if they only knew,
Eyes of the Lynx
An unwanted gift?
Or underappreciated blessing?
Either way,
ODE TO THE MIGHTY LYNX……………………………………
Slam poetry evening
Offended
Leave now
In fact why have you come
If this is not for you
Or do you 2 wish to slam
And are here looking for a muse
To abuse or accuse
To ignite your fuse
Try walking in other's shoes
So contrite
I write what bite's
I spew like devil's flu
Over and under you
I slam
That of which I give a damn
I compress like a powder keg
I challenge you to think ahead
I am what keeps you awake in bed
I am an dystopia future
I lie beneath the key's of your computer
That the ouigie move's
And your feet steers
I am what's lurching in the rear mirror
I am your fear's
The shivers that chill down your spine
I am the crossed line
An anomaly
Slamming brain matter pulsating vein's
Allowing your innermost thoughts to flow
Without self control
No longer shy truth not lie
I could fry for divulging the slam
Loose my friends and confidants
For the sake of mistaking poetry for art
But if freedom and release
Is what I seek
Then on this day
Havoc wreak
I stand on fickle hoarded stage
And read my words from tortured page
And rage against my weapons
With dotted crosses
Ironing out the botches
With scalpel and shale beach rocks
And feel the chill of deafening frost
Nothing lost
Nothing ventured
Friendship mended
Slam ended
Can't even tell you
Why or even if I penned this
Or meant it
The sentiment is endless
For the reader to bend it
Sorry but I felt duty bound to send this
I honestly recommend it
Slam me back
Call me an old hack
Its the only way of keeping track
Or shelling the flack
Otherwise i will keep coming back
More black and blank
With no 1 to thank
And you can take that to the food bank
He tills within the buzzard's flight
this cruel land he calls his home,
ewe and wether, milk and bucket,
broken spirit, ne'er to roam.
He's stuck for good, the laws of nature
guide him, be they right or wrong,
gone his hopes and his compassion,
save for the curlew's mournful song.
Courted by the country lasses,
love can't penetrate this soul,
pain and grief his only help meets,
daily toil his only goal.
Mother, father, gone to dust now,
confidants who'd calm his fears,
struggling with a heavy heart,
internalizing all his tears.
It's back to digging, discompacting
stones and boulders from the earth,
working 'til there's no more sun
in Wales, the cradle of his birth.
Striving against the elements
he stretches every nerve and bone,
every muscle, every sinew,
'til exhaustion brings him home.
Ne'er a smile adorns his visage,
there simply is no time for this,
haggard, careworn, slave to nature,
racked by weather's wantonness.
Two weeks gone, and there they find him,
chided by the wind and rain,
cadavered and condemned to fester,
never to be sad again.
*******
...dedicated to the Welsh poet R.S. Thomas
and his book, 'Song At The Year's Turning.'
Angels! ! !
Pristine they are,
Angels are our aegis.
Angels are our confidants,
Confidants who know what we want!
Angels are sidekicks!
Angels! ! !
Legends they are,
Who work around the clock?
I prefer calling them enthusiasts.
Angels are our seekers.
Angels! ! !
Heroes they are,
In tragedy, angels consume us to keep heart and have hope!
Angels are victors!
Angels are noble!
Let's accolade angels.
All Rights Reserved
T.m.T scripts
He tills within the buzzard's flight
this cruel land he calls his home,
ewe and wether, milk and bucket,
broken spirit, ne'er to roam.
He's stuck for good, the laws of nature
guide him, be they right or wrong,
gone his hopes and his compassion,
save for the curlew's mournful song.
Courted by the country lasses,
love can't penetrate this soul,
pain and grief his only helpmeets,
daily toil his only goal.
Mother, father, gone to dust now,
confidants who'd calm his fears,
struggling with a heavy heart,
internalizing all his tears.
It's back to digging, discompacting
stones and boulders from the earth,
working 'til there's no more sun
in Wales, the cradle of his birth.
Striving 'gainst the elements
he stretches every nerve and bone,
every muscle, every sinew,
'til exhaustion brings him home.
Ne'er a smile adorns his visage,
there simply is no time for this,
haggard, careworn, slave to nature,
racked by weather's wantonness.
Two weeks gone, and there they find him,
chided by the wind and rain,
cadavered and condemned to fester,
never to be sad again.
He tills within the buzzard's flight
this cruel land he calls his home,
ewe and wether, milk and bucket,
broken spirit, ne'er to roam.
He's stuck for good, the sacraments
will guide him, right and wrong,
gone his hopes, and his compassion,
save for the lapwing's mournful song.
Courted by the country lasses,
love can't penetrate this soul,
pain and grief his only parents,
loneliness his only goal.
Mother, father, gone to dust now,
confidants who'd calm his fears,
struggling with a heavy heart,
internalizing all his tears.
It's back to digging, discompacting
stones and boulders from the earth,
working 'til there's no more sunlight,
Wales, inaugurator of his birth.
Battling the elements he
stretches every bone,
every muscle, every sinew,
'til exhaustion brings him home.
Ne'er a smile adorns his visage,
there simply is no time for this,
haggard, careworn, slave to nature,
racked by weather's wantonness.
Two weeks gone, and there they find him,
cradled by the wind and rain,
cadavered and condemned to fester,
never to be harmed again.
He tills within the buzzard's flight
this cruel land he calls his home,
ewe and wether, milk and bucket,
broken spirit, ne'er to roam.
He's stuck for good, the laws of nature
guide him, be they right or wrong,
gone his hopes and his compassion,
save for the curlew's mournful song.
Courted by the country lasses,
love can't penetrate this soul,
pain and grief his only helpmeets,
daily toil his only goal.
Mother, father, gone to dust now,
confidants who'd calm his fears,
struggling with a heavy heart,
internalizing all his tears.
It's back to digging, discompacting
stones and boulders from the earth,
working 'til there's no more sun
in Wales, the cradle of his birth.
Striving 'gainst the elements
he stretches every nerve and bone,
every muscle, every sinew,
'til exhaustion brings him home.
Ne'er a smile adorns his visage,
there simply is no time for this,
haggard, careworn, slave to nature,
racked by weather's wantonness.
Two weeks gone, and there they find him,
chided by the wind and rain,
cadavered and condemned to fester,
never to be sad again.
I'm scared of these feelings that I have,
Because I'm finally past the point of being sad.
I'm ready to jump out window and fly,
Not looking back with you as my guy.
Hoping that I soar instead of hit the ground,
Because love is what I have found.
I'm ready to take this chance,
And show you true romance.
Being the only one you need,
To have love that goes deep.
I want to take away all your worries and fears,
Make all of the bad disappear.
I want to replace the loneliness,
With nothing but coziness.
Help you out along the way,
So you'd know your future will be okay.
I'm ready for something that's real,
Time for all the scars to heal.
Being your present and future girl,
Ride or die until the end of the world.
Being your other half to make a whole,
Making love that's out of control.
Being there for you every day,
Showing you that I'm here to stay.
Giving you all the things you deserve,
Because you have proven your worth.
Making you happy is all I want,
Becoming each others confidants.
Let me love you and show you that I care,
So your heart will no longer be in despair.
I want to be enough for you,
Because it's you that I choose.
No other person makes me feel the way you do,
I just want to share a life with you.
I want to make all your dreams come true,
Because I know all the pain you've been through.
I want to be apart of your love train,
Coming together creating our domain.
I want to give you love you've never had,
Because our bond makes us the perfect match.
Dedicated to the man I love
January 02, 2014
~The One and Only~
From the traces of Amelia Earhart
Her roots We could be tying
Considering how she had
Mastered "the Art of Flying"
So naturally doing her Snap rolls
The way a Computer geek
On the Internet, does his scrolls
Soaring through thin air
About the Earth's equator
Using her woman's intuition
To be her navigator
Knowing by heart, all the dangers
Of taking such a risk
Believing, solely, within herself
That "People are only killed by Cockiness"
Despite, how Our courageous Amelia
Had cold disappeared
Was Nancy still fascinated
Feeling worse things to have feared
Like being made to stay from
The one thing she did desire
Recalling how Confidants
Tried to convince her to retire
Although, She would Never give up
The freedom of flying her XL 300 Plane
Pressing on, with A sunny disposition
Ignoring the possiblities of there being rain
Because she had a "rep to protect"
Being a Stunt Pilot, Nationally known
Becoming right before Our very eyes
A legend to her death tragically flown
Upon "staying the course"
Like the crew of Colmbia Seven
Looking to defeat all odds
Getting lost between earth and heaven
Putting a damper on her plans
For futhering her flight thru the friendly skies
Except in the Spirit, appearing as a Cloud of Smoke
From which We choke in between the Cries
Friendships are formed in many different ways,
some are by mutual choice and others by chance.
A sincere comradery will last forever and always
while a few have turned into passionate romance.
Confidants often find themselves telling each other
the darkest secrets and the desires of their lives,
things they don't share with a sister or a brother.
Silly or naughty plans that only a friend contrives.
But what defines a friend? Is it a confidant or a lover?
Someone online with whom we have good chats
and quickly makes us want to know more and discover
what's in their belfry, secretly hoping it's not bats!
Friends offer a shoulder to cry on and an ear attuned
when troubles are too hard for one to bear all alone.
It's important to help a friend who's feeling marooned,
and all they need to do is make a call on the phone.
Through understanding, we acquire a discerning heart,
one that sorrows over sad times and rejoices together
whether friends are always together or far apart.
The best buddy is there in times of stormy weather.
The word 'friend' only has six letters. It's a small word,
but if I call you 'ally' it's because you have my respect.
The friendship bond causes emotions to be stirred.
I'd do anything for a treasured friend when we connect.
August 5, 2022
Friendship Contest
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
We sat on a quiet porch by moonlight splashed,
Wrapped in a static of faint cicada song,
Watching a horizon by city lights sashed,
On sultry summer nights by lithe pixies thronged.
Bossa nova rhythms rippled lukewarm air,
Languid voices tiptoed in solacing calm,
Confidants whispering of the bronzed and fair,
Of sunlit sand they crooned a sun-lilted psalm.
Abducted we were by Jobim, Gilberto,
To a land swaying with the promise of June.
Those were the years we crowed with youth’s falsetto,
Blithely singing along, slightly out of tune.
- Inspired by the song “Desafinado (Out of Tune)” 1962 -
Beauty, very pleasant and fascinating
Nature, the evidence of beauty and alluring
Two creations rarely found together
The most blessed experience would be to
find these two merge together into one.
Beauty goes beyond the outward looks
Nature, beyond watching the trees and the ocean
Two definitions that are rarely defined
The greatest puzzle that is certain to make
mankind happy if and when solved.
Beauty, the inner assurance of satisfaction
Nature, the unheard voice of peace
Two confidants that we seem to
always neglect and forgo for uncertainty
Whereas, they just wish we acknowledge them.
Until you are able to harness together,
The beauty in nature; the naturality in beauty
You would not be able to appreciate either
...Beauty or Nature.
Form: