Best Crafted Poems
I cant carry your bones and my own
But I will because it hurts more to be alone
What you think of me is my view of myself
You design my skeleton not me or anyone else
Now that I no longer carry your bones
I hate myself wherever I go
When I look in the mirror I am haunted by my own skeleton
Disgusted by the bones you depicted that I am forced to live in
You discarded all the parts of my skeleton worth keeping
Now I understand my well being was not what you were seeking
I am now living with a crafted skeleton and chiseled bones
And your words will never leave me alone
Feeling alone like I’m by myself on an Island,
Spending time within my mind and forever rhyming,
Remembering everything comes together slowly when ya smiling,
Like a raw gem that transforms into a well-crafted diamond,
While aware of the memories in the shadows that keep crying,
Tomorrows a better day when we can see over the horizon,
Compiling and filing my thoughts with perfect timing,
Always protecting my inner being while reconciling as I climb,
Climbing this ladder in this life I was given,
Driven by the beauty I see,
Knowing where I come from through my family tree,
Knowing where I’ve been, what I’ve seen,
With an active mind with neurons connecting,
Directing notions without any commotions,
Our imaginations are like the ocean,
Vast with changing tides of emotion,
Unspoken words become broken,
If you continue to keep silent,
This life we are experiencing can be vibrant,
So I look out the window and past the social climate,
Stop hiding and check out some info,
Gaining strength as I go, my way,
This is true wealth making sure I don’t betray myself,
Looking to a bookshelf to help myself learn,
Understanding one’s self has to be earned,
Through the burning temptations as I yearn for more,
The need to explore through the open door to find what’s yours,
Working on my mental flaws as I pause to give thanks,
Lighting my lamp in times of darkness,
Seeing the vastness in my mind,
Finding I have greatness that needs to be rhymed,
Designed and well organized by my inner sidekick,
Quick and honest with no nonsense I give thanks to my subconscious,
As I make a promise to myself with my inner logic,
To always write my insight and be cautious and flawless.
Quincy Mac
Date Written: 30.4.2016
You make me wonder,
with much merry eagerness
How can you craft such majestic,
poetic verses, pricked by simple words meaningful to my heart?
Your gift of explaining yourself so uniquely is appreciated by me
How can you craft such words with poetic passion
In meaningful words, typed with eagerness?
You make me wonder
My Crafted Inferno
Tears fall like waterfalls from the broken,
Now finally love is now outspoken.
Because no one understands a love lost,
but what did I receive for this damn cost?
Emptiness, such heart break, and now alone...
I feel as if my strength, my soul, is gone.
What do I live for now day after day,
God please tell me if I can find some way,
To reverse this transaction free me now
God please, for I know you only know how!
but why would even you listen to me,
When I hate the person I am to be...
and as I write droplets fall to my page,
you've broke me now, I'll stay trapped in this cage.
Locked away for whatever price I paid,
My sins on the wall, the foundations laid.
I welcome my hell, the one I freely made.
I did turn my back! I should've just stayed!
Though I do know it's not your one intent
to make me live in my crafted torment...
I shall remain in my pain for these days,
And watch my demons torture me and stay.
For countless loves died in front of my eyes,
leaving my destroyed heart asking you why?
My destroyed heart, will it someday feel new?
Can you send me my own angel to do...?
The much needed repair and save my life
and bless me enough to make her my wife!
Oh God please just once can you hear my plea...
Before that someone just gives up on me!
CMS
Time’s up
mind’s plucked
watch me cave in
rhymes suck
my luck
hair’s wearing thin
corrupt
destruct
stops me thinking
clocks stuck
bell struck
sound silencing
Now I told you the minds plucked
first line look
write the hook
tip top tin pot I’m all shook up
lips lock can’t talk words in a book
flip flop fell off feet feel the muck
this rhyme of mine now starts to cook
Grapes with stems and apples with pips in
baking tin's hot for mashing cakes in
microwaves hum the smells you’re craving
visual treat the way this laying
succulent senses smells utensils
music playing instrumentals
banana berries you see genitals
banana cock with very berry balls
admittedly imagery imaginary calamity
the title says forced not fabulously
perspective talent I have or haven't
clear to see or transparent
a fight night fight knight fights fight knights
fighting fighters fighting fights
right through the night 'til early light
it's quite a sight when fight knights fighting
fight knights fighting fighters fighting fights fight all night
forced but great
cook or bake
walnuts cakes
waste of space
pick out of place
left on plates
cake fills waist
rhyme overrates
I say it straight
this page you save
bookmark cook shart
favourites hook hearts
great hits honk large
grey bits bonk hard
you think I'm
bonkers
more like plonkers pond cars boats
random words I just float
flash dance
gash glance
entrance
splash pants
drains fast
seepage
expands
stains grand
up set
get set
marks
won’t go
on show
all know
ball bag blow
fool go home
rhyme it like you're mental
do it with pen not pencil
don't rub it out write it again
I know a penguin poet called Gwen
no go again mean this poem's a gem
Time’s up mind’s plucked watch me cave in
rhymes suck my luck hair’s wearing thin
corrupt destruct stops my thinking
and no I haven't been foster drinking
Like a sculptor I searched for the perfect stone
I tried to make it better and with my skills hone
But you cannot change it no matter how you shape or scuff
I lost all of them and found you a diamond in the rough
Inner perfection was already there and was easy to see
Your heart is heavenly crafted and is tailor made for me
Like a carpenter I chose only the best wood
I tried to cut and plane it but the result was misunderstood
I tried to preserve it forever but it rotted away
Until I found a well built home in you and I wanted to stay
Inner perfection was already there and was easy to see
Your heart is heavenly crafted and is tailor made for me
Like a painter I covered my canvas with paint and oil
But the more I stroked the more it did spoil
I tried to add more color and they still did part
Until I found you the masterpiece work of art
Inner perfection was already there and was easy to see
Your heart is heavenly crafted and is tailor made for me
Life has its ups and downs, wins and losses:
that's the nature of the games people play.
We all strive to be one of the bosses:
and yet, fate seldom seems to work that way.
The games begin before we learn to speak,
fun ones, like believing in Santa Claus.
Amongst the many, that game was unique:
and still, some question what its purpose was.
Games introduce us to lies in disguise:
dulling the trauma of being deceived.
To win, one must learn how to improvise:
reality is weirder than perceived.
We play innumerable games of chance:
cunningly crafted, as games of romance.
Fear is the very pearl from which love is crafted.
It's only a natural gesture to fear,
The fleeting moment when we might lose all we hold dear,
Even as we relish their presence by our side,
Loving every symphonic movement in unison, close to us.
How natural it is to anticipate
That dark day of parting,
And how vulnerable foresight makes us,
So we touch them with even deeper gentleness,
Yet with a firmness that allows no escape
From the sole warm candor we are permitted to cling to tightly.
In a world where every union might be the last act,
We embrace all the more sorrowfully the shadow of the passing moment,
With the fear of that inevitable farewell leaping in our chest,
We tie every second with the promise that it shall not end.
And even in the fullness of a lit day,
A murky sense of loss lies in wait,
We engage in an enchanting and sad choreography,
Trembling hands binding other hands in the dance of remaining time.
Oh, how delicate is the tenderness with which we nurse hope,
Sowing every gesture with the care of one who carries a flame against the wind.
We hold fast to all those smiles, whispers, and touches,
They are our fragile treasure, the richness we hold close, hoping timidly.
But, let me tell you, this very fear is the pearl from which love is made,
And our heart is like a tempest-tossed vessel that shelters an ocean of precious trifles
With each beat playing with the possibility of loss,
And out of this fear grows, paradoxically, a greater love.
As if our days weave a delicate canvas,
Upon which we paint every fine emotion with quivering hands.
And in this canvas, dwelt by fears and tenderness,
A strength is hidden - the tenacity with which we cling to what is ephemeral.
You live like this, sheltered in a delicate world crafted from dreams and illusions,
Believing you are truly living, while your steps are guided by routine,
But then you open a book... or embark on an unexpected journey,
And discover that you are not living, but hibernating, asleep in an apparent silence.
The symptoms of hibernation are easy to spot: first, the restlessness that haunts you,
The second symptom (when hibernation becomes dangerous and can degenerate into death):
The absence of pleasure, of the joy that once filled the cups of your soul,
That is all.
It seems like a harmless disease, a virus of monotony, boredom, slow death,
Millions live like this (or perhaps die like this) without knowing,
They work in offices, drive cars, have picnics with their families,
Raise children and wait for times to change.
And then, a shock treatment occurs, a person, a book, a song,
And it awakens them, saves them from the death that enveloped them like a veil,
But some never awaken, remaining asleep in their silent slumber,
In a world where only shadows speak of the life that could have been.
In the reflection of divine light, I stand,
A child of God, created by His hand.
Clothed in His image, a vessel of grace,
Chosen and cherished in Heaven's embrace.
No earthly words or judgments can define,
The worth I hold, a treasure so divine.
For I am crafted with love's tender touch,
A masterpiece formed, loved oh so much.
In the depths of my soul, I find my might,
Unwavering purpose, a guiding light.
No doubts can tarnish this sacred flame,
For God's love within me forever claims.
Fearfully and wonderfully designed,
A testament to grace, with gifts enshrined.
I embrace my journey with steadfast embrace,
Knowing God's love guides me in every space.
So, let no voice or doubt cause me to sway,
In my Father's love, I find strength each day.
For I am a child of God, cherished and blessed,
Forever in His arms, eternally at rest.
I was walking along the edge of the world
Untill the day i met you my dear
It seemed like the edge of the world had ended
But It was just lost somewhere
Behind Your beauty I guess
The day you left me Ive been walkin on the edges again
Memories with you the fun and laughter
Every cold night with tears in eyes the refrain
I know i dont want to show that I still love you
I know that it would not matter to you at all, even if i die
But still in my heart in my brain i feel it
I feel a certain fear that i need to let you know
At least try once again before I die
Seems like im about to, Its this day or the next
Till this day, Theres nothing that ive done, nothing i even tried
To make you believe me and my love, i crushed my heart and cried
But that would do a thing, it wouldnt help me against you
The self esteem of yours is like a diamond that cant be cut
I suppose diamond are to cut the diamond
But the diamond that you are, The only one you are
No diamond as such can cut you apart
You are the diamond crafted to cut my heart
M-arvelous
A-uthor
D-elights
E-vent's
L-ady
E-mploying
I-nspiring
N-ote's
E-xcellent
C-onnotation
O-nce
N-oble
C-omposer
E-xecutes
P-oem
C-rafted
I-n
O-ne
N-ame
Topic: Birthday of Madeleine Concepcion (December 03)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
When time just collapses and stands still,
Reality shadows all laughter with haunted chill
I just feel that I should walk and walk …
Till the mosque awaits, not a further talk.
You keep on talking about writing on the wall
I see a clumsy nagging dirty pain, standing rigid and tall
Pure scripture keeps shining still, the innermost surreal call
Why bother to alter the calligraphy? Invalid try after all.
Softer tones utter each word in a pure divine way
All that was confusing gradually get vanished away
Look there! Out there on the far-reaching greenery ….
Little souls are building heaven with crafted archery.
(A gifted poem to Austin Poetry Society)
M-essage
I-s
C-rafted
H-appily
A-nd
E-xcellent
L-ine's
R-ighteous
E-xpression
N-icely
E-mploys
G-reatness
A-s
T-ruth
M-akes
I-t
N-oble
Topic: Birthday of Michael Rene Gatmin (August 26)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
G-ladly
I-nterpret
O-ne
V-erse
A-ppreciating
N-ifty
N-ote's
I-nspiration
B-ecause
O-f
C-omforting
C-omposition
A-s
C-rafted
C-onnotation
I-mplements
O-ptimism
Form: Vertical Monocrostic