Best Deferred Poems
How will my household chores get done?
They're just no fun.
I'd rather write
about this plight.
Great piles of clothes and dishes hope
for cleansing soap.
Another time,
I'll banish grime.
Today a "Minute" calls my name.
This prompt's to blame
for undone work
I had to shirk!
received NA in an open-choice contest on April 10, 2022
September 17, 2022
entered in the Your Second Chance 2nd Submission: Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Again I shield my eyes from ocean's spray
While lifting eyes of hope to search the sea
But seas and skies are endless, troubled grey
My hope deferred; how often must it be?
I'd give my life to see him safely home
And all once more his windswept face to see
"And what," I ask, "compels my love to roam?"
But only wind blows keenly on my ear
While here I stand -- forsaken for the foam
My hope deferred gives way to tho'ts of fear
A ship alone, perhaps not still afloat
Yet still I wait, and hope he cometh near
A sail I see! and greet with hopeful smile
But hope deferred - must wait for yet a while
Based on Brition Riviere's painting, "Hope Deferred".
http://www.wikigallery.org/wiki/painting_319027/Briton-Rivi%E8re/Hope-Deferred
Dreams Deferred - Gone with the Wind
Dreams deferred:
Placed on hold
Like unwelcomed telephone calls
Relegated to being bench warmers
Like second-rate baseball players
Put out to pasture
Like useless cattle past their prime
Displayed on a shelf
Like tarnished antiques collecting dust
Stored in an old medicine cabinet
Like expired drugs that have lost their potency
Stashed away in a hope chest in the attic
Like old lace and forgotten memories
Discarded on a beach
Like trash washed away with outgoing tides
Left adrift in open seas
Like a rudderless ship with no destination
Set aflame
Like rejected love letters
Then suddenly - Puff!
Like cold, grey ashes from a funeral pyre
Dreams deferred are blown away -
Gone with the wind!
Muffled dialogue ennui sequestered intimacy so distant,
smothered in ebbing surreptitious fantasy.
Musing how close is close?
(Apropos of Hughes’s Proverbial Question)
What happens when rotten strange fruit…
Hanging from trees of auction block wood
Become stinking pieces of black flesh…dried blood
Putrefying in murderous streets…?
When crystallized tears of remorse…Laden and loaded
With explosive grief…flow down weary faces
Wrinkled by time’s trials, tribulations…treacherousness—
And neglect of freedom, justice and equality
All become like inconsequential sunned raisins and festering sores…?
When visions of deferred dreams become blurred realities—
Fogged by the steam of volcanic anger—Pray tell…What happens?
Pray tell…What happens? And then what?—Pray tell!
The grapes are crushed and trodden,
winnowed the golden grain;
if winter comes tomorrow
my heart shall not complain.
Richer this tardy harvest
than one could ever dream
who has known the taste of famine
and drank a drought extreme.
Copyright, 7-19-2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
You entered the
room, we spoke a
while,
Your eyes spoke
volumes, a gentle
soul.
A compatriot to
spend time with,
The prospects seemed
so bright to me.
Laughed at observed
funny moments,
Smiled when our eyes
found each others'.
Then the news came
on, I gave my
opinion,
Not so you
interjected, you had
your say.
Stuck to my
rationale, years in
the making,
You got irate
stating your learned
points.
Why oh why did we
not agree to
disagree,
Off you stormed
muttering under your
breath.
There I stood,
mumbling to myself,
Naught to show but a
deferred friendship!
Pontiak. Copyright
June 2013.
How long was I asleep like a proud bug
deep in her nest? All of my life was ease
and wealth until I became a bit smug—
and all about was hunger, dearth, and disease!
So cozy was life that I was content,
snug, self-assured, sure, and self-satisfied
without awareness of my confident
pride and the fact that I was gratified.
Crash! Why is my world so swiftly shattered?
My hopes and dreams quake, rattle, and quiver!
Clattering are my hands; my luggage tattered!
Collision strikes as I now shake and shiver.
From above—life goals now reveal with brute force:
I'll forge ahead anon without remorse!
Beauty
Aesthetic grace
Is muted for a time
Weary eyes searching the darkness
New dawn..
Absence makes these eyes grow fonder
Beethoven's sonata
Comes to a close
Sunrise
It is night's first light — evening
The world thinks through my mind
The echoes of a bittersweet day whisper
My ears twitch, my heart pricks
A pressed edge leans forward
Shouldering the offices of the earth
A desire to just surmount the hurdles
Like an infant falls yet learns to walk
The one weary of deferred hope
The other elated 'bout a filled cup
The one broken to a love unrequited, at least lost
The other happy, healed at finding love
Life's but a parody of exhilarations
A gnome ignited by fiery undergoings
The man, an eloquent stammerer
Profiting and lossing to antiquity
Love, life, life and love — there's no life or love without wins
Pa, ma, lad and lass — you have no family without wins
Works, rest, rest from works — there's no rest without wins
Wisdom, wits and will will wither — to live is to first die
What happens to a broken heart?
Does it shrivel and shrink like toes under water?
Or blister and break apart—
Like sunburns getting ever hotter?
Does it feel crushed like a battered rock by the sea?
Or bleed like a wound—
That soon ceases to be?
Maybe it painfully crumbles
Like a man hit by a sharp spear...
Or does it simply disappear?
*with due apologies to the late, great Langston Hughes*
What happens to a dream deferred?
Me? Defer a dream?
Nah, I ain't that mighty a fool!
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Raisins! Mmm, I love me some raisins...
on oatmeal, on cookies, the works!
Or fester like a sore?
Yikes! the imagery on human skin!
And then run?
If dreams run, I got legs
I'd give chase!
Does it stink like rotten meat?
If so I'd toss it
while holding my nose!
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Oh, I sure hope it does
coz I'm a sweet tooth, baby!
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Hey, there's a Camel for that!
Or does it explode?
Whoa! An exploding dream?
I'd stay 500 paces away from this one!
Parody Of A Famous Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by L MILTON HANKINS
Date written: 12/22/2020
I stare in amazement,
As you stand and scream...
My heart screams but my lips don't move in parallel...
We all flee,
All but you,
To safety they run,
To you I sprint...
I grab your hand and pull,
But you are as if cemented,
I lift, pull, and tug to my best but your legs are stubborn...
You continue to scream as fear approaches us both,
I look up to see...
My eyes crack open,
Heavy from peaceful sleep,
The intensity from the dream still lingers,
As immediately I begin to scribble in my pad.
They say dreams are metaphorical representations,
Of everyday situations,
Or internal struggle...
LESSON LEARNED:
No matter how bad you want to help someone,
The have to WANT and DESIRE help,
You can't help the truly helpless...
FRESH WRITTEN
Dreams Deferred
My Dreams have always been to travel around the globe.
Dreams Deferred? Perhaps
My dream is to possibly become an author, second-guessing and duped. Dreams Deferred? Perhaps
Unguarded decisions, false evidence appears real. Dreams
Deferred? Perhaps
Guilty by association, recognized toxic faces, unaccustomed places, I'm at a crossroads. Dreams
Deferred? Perhaps
Trust shattered yet my heart has not desensitized. Dreams
Deferred? Perhaps
Possess the land of your heart
For cares of the world can cause
Our hearts to become compact!
Don't let hope be deferred
It's time to plow our hearts
And let the dormant seeds
Grow and flourish once again!
This is a precious time
Time is cyclic, take a step back
Look at the situation, see your part
Walk circumspectly and align with time
Let time work for you, redeem the time
Then you'll see your vision come to life!