Best Dividing Line Poems


Borders In the Borderless Society

Waft borderless borders;
within;

  The dividing line that separates the free
    and the slaves;

      where strangers come and go
          but the cage is never lifted.


                Where sticks and stones travel farther,
                and idle remains your soul possession;


                pocketed,
                dispossessed
                and disenfranchised.


Standing frozen in the temporal sea,
while global earth spins yonder;
giving birth to a global movement;
devoid of you,
where the shining guards of globalism obstruct your path
and the cage is never lifted.

apartheid in an open prison,
borders without a border,
where freedom is ill defined
and internal struggle
links the spider web without a spider to keep it.

Premium Member Going Forward

GOING FORWARD

What could bring about World War three,
Which continent will it be,
To unlock the frustrations of the poor,
From within their very core,
And unleash their long felt wrath,
A wrath that arose from an,
Impoverished and hopeless path.
A wrath would be unleashed on the 
rich and elite,
Bringing forward millions of feet.
As there is a huge dividing line,
It is just a matter of time.
Until the poor will rise,
And want to claim first prize!
Countries must now unite,
To settle this breadline fight,
Not wait for a chaotic state, 
Not let history record this date.
Education is the essential key,
For everyone including you and me,
And should open many a door,
To the impoverished poor.
If we go forward in this way,
We will engage the poor to 
Have their say,
Equality will then be the order
Of the day.

Premium Member The Zen of Water and Sky

And in meditation I drift
   to where the water and sky meet,
on rolling waves bright blue and swift.
   Oh, heavenly retreat,
            here, I want to stay,
            and sun falling-  delay.
Floating where water and sky entwine,
and there is no dividing line.

___________________
January 4, 2018

Poetry/Rhyme/The Zen Of Water and Sky
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9801-02-01
All Rights Reserved.  Written Under Pseudonym.

Submitted into Standard Contest #65
sponsor, Brian Strand

Second Place


Human Rights

Human Rights June 27,2015

Human rights for you and me
 Palestinian children living free
 People free without a tear
 Children playing without fear
 Irish children white, orange and green
 A united Ireland without the queen
 A new Ireland for me and you
 Living in peace with thirty-two
 No death squads in our country
 Make killing is a memory of our past
 First nation people have their land
 No dividing line in the sand
 Mount Rushmore Mountain Time for change
 Those faces on the rock
 Free the people you and me
 First Nations people must be free
 Africa, Madiba’s dream
 Eyes blind to bigotry
 He showed the world the way
 Let the people have their say 
 Black Americans locked in jail
 The justice system did surely fail
 Homeless people, you know what I mean
 Give them a home, the American dream
 Feed the people, ban the bomb
 The politicians got it wrong
 Make our world a better place
 Save our children and the human race
 Human rights for you and me
 Palestinian children living free

Gerrard McGeachy

Euler's Match

Our math match was never going to be 
Algebra and simple linear me 
my family drew a dividing line 
differences were more than bloodline 

complex family arguments ensued 
many comments expressed were pretty lewd 
long divisions left not even a carry 
only we could see a point of marry 

cos x plus i sin x was a clear match 
a perfect solution not a mismatch 
Richard Feynman called this match “our jewel”
Euler proved he was no body’s math fool 

he matched Algebra to Geometry 
a beautiful formula we agree
© Just James  Create an image from this poem.

Stay Away

There is a line in the sand I won't cross over
I don't believe in infidelity
Cross that line and the marriage will be over
So darling , Please stay away from me .

So sorry I did not declare my feelings 
Long before I saw you walk down the aisle
Still today my broken heart is healing 
I try to hide my pain behind my smile . 

I know you feel for me 
The way I feel for you 
but our love can never be
Darling you know that's true .

I see you all the time 
The truth is reflected in your eyes
but we must never cross that line
Or ourselves we would despise .

So darling stay away from me 
Help me to be strong 
Go home to your family 
That is where you belong .

In another life we'll meet 
There will be no dividing line
We would not have to cheat 
and forever you'll be mine.


Premium Member When Forever Is Severed

"A house divided against itself cannot stand." 
                                                    Abraham Lincoln

Lincoln spoke of the division within a country, but his words also ring true
         when an invisible barrier separates a husband and wife.
                                          


You sit in your arm chair, remote in hand. Remote...that's what you've become.
I have this spacious couch to myself, but I won't ask you to sit with me because
I'm afraid of what your answer might be.

                           TOGETHER
We used to snuggle...We used to take walks...
We used to laugh... We used to go to bed...
I feel lonelier with you then I did before we were married. 
You're here physically, but emotionally, where did you go?



When did we drift away from each other...
Why are we more like sister and brother...
Have you given your heart to another...

You used to leave me sweet little love notes.
I used to make you smile with root beer floats.
We laughed till we cried at our anecdotes.

There's a rift between us - breaking my heart.
A dividing line that I cannot thwart.
We share the same house, yet we are apart.

Love cannot survive in complacency.
It's time I face the harsh reality.
Tell me, honestly, do you still love me?

It would be very hard to say goodbye.
But it's better than living in a lie.
Nothing else could ever cause me to cry.

I have nothing left to say that's clever.
Sad to think we will have no forever.
Nothin' left for a love that's been severed.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

I Remember Going To the Movies Was a Sin

I Remember Going to the Theater Was A Sin

I remember at the young age of 9 or 10.
Going to the theater was considered a sin.
There were many things that as a young boy.
That I wanted to explore and enjoy.
My parents may have been "old fashioned."
They were filled with a Godly love and compassion.
I look back now and with some hesitation.
And think about this "new generation."
I wonder "where have all of the morals gone to?"
Some parents are doing things, as a kid, I'd never do.
Many of the "Godly" parents don't seemed concerned.
What's right or wrong—they can't discern.
What once was a dividing line 
between black and white.
Is now; "if it feels good—it must be alright."
The savior's call for holiness in your life must dwell.
Living by his word will save your family from hell.
Maybe living for Jesus is by some, "a narrow way of living."
May your life be one of sacrifice, holiness and thanksgiving.
May your commitment be true, your heart sincere.
For one day very soon, Jesus shall appear.
Now's the time to be an example
of Jesus' precious name.
When he comes … Will you be ready? Or ashamed?

By Jim Pemberton

The Border In Your Mind

THE BORDER IN YOUR MIND

The border in your mind...
The dividing line,
Between me and you, and
You and me.

The borderline we hide behind.
The crying child on the dusty road
Without clothes-heading towards you,
Her back to the wall.

Don't you see, can't you see?
What causes all this misery?
The border in your mind,
The division of kind from unkind.

The dividing line between
Me and you, and
You and me,
And me and Me.

Premium Member Happy Dads Day

"Happy Dads Day"

Most men can be a father, not requiring any skill
Beyond an encounter that will give them a thrill.
But here's where comes in to play the dividing line,
Since a Dad is someone special, planned by God Divine.

To be a Dad takes more than a roll in the hay;
Is more than what biology can ever hope to say.
A Dad loves his children, cares for them for life,
Sees being a Dad a joy and not burden laden strife.

Fathers are a dime a dozen, with plenty of them around,
But among the fathers, the Dads, fewer of are found.
Then there are the Dads where biology plays no roll at all,
Yet, step up to plate as Dad, to fill another man's call.

To be fair this holds true with women and also does apply,
Since most can be mothers, but many, as Moms, come up shy.
Being a father or a mother is a biological roll,
But without them as Dads and Moms, the children pay the toll.

Most any man can be a father, have this title given them,
But the role of Dad is reserved for a man who is a gem.
A man who fathers a child and turns his back is a cad,
While a real man sees fatherhood as a privilege to be Dad.

Being a Dad is much more than a financial liability;
Requires guidance of a man with principles and integrity.
A Dad encourages his children with Love and support,
Disciplines as needed but abuse NEVER to will resort.

Instead of Happy Fathers Day, let's make it more correct
To honour those deserving and may the day's name reflect
The true heroes to their children, through actions ironclad, 
And so, I wish a Happy Dads Day to each and every Dad!

Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-06-14 11:52:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.

~ Always ~

Thinking about Sigmund Freud and his psychoanalysis theories

Albert Einstein, and his formulations upon the relativities

Playtos pupil, Aristotle.... Michelangelo-the sculptor, painter, architect and poet

An endless list written and rewritten, of lives within the pages of time....

Thinking of the human mind, with its boundless spectrums of possibilities

All the why's, the what's, and, the what ifs? A universe, yet to be discovered!

This amazing realm that we are in; at least to myself, of abstract truth....

For who can know beyond a doubt, the very core of any matter, the absolute!?

What mind can hold the ultimate essence, within infinities hands?!

Science itself is not even truth-but merely a shadow, at its very best....

And where does this leave me, as I return to this sphere of contemplation?

Grasping at particles, as if I could collect them all, while standing...."Amid a dream"

Gathering them into a manifestation, of concrete realities?

Reality it seems is a futile endeavor-more negative than positive, in the terms of

Mathematical economical equation-out of the black and into the red....

John Nash would know more about that-the structures of content, tranquillity and sanity

More to be lost it seems, than to be found....to complicate, to overwhelm!

It is true that we do need knowledge though, if ever we are to hope

To expand, to extend, to be better, to cure and to grow....But therein lies 

"A dividing line," between knowledge and wisdom-a perspective of ones view!?

The big picture so to speak, of the here and now, and the forever to come....

Which leads me back again, to the beginning of this contemplative thought

For we must 'all' choose, what ground, we would most want to stand upon!?

An old Biblical verse, "We are in this world, but we are not of this world....". {Cont}

The Adventures of Enea, Part 9 of 13

Points Above and Below the Line
(Enea Canonises Catherine of Siena)

It's not a thing we go for any more, 
that hierarchy malarkey, but in fact 
the medieval mind set mega store 
by stairs and ladders. All things interact, 

and therefore can be neatly classified. 
(There's endless fun in drawing up these lists!) 
The lowest rung is "is", all pride aside: 
a rock is "est", because it just exists. 

Your jellyfish can breathe and reproduce, 
so up we go: it wins a badge named "vivit". 
An antelope can feel, get scared, hang loose, 
so "sentit" is the title we can give it. 

So living, then, is better than existing, 
and feeling better still. Take Esther Blodgett. 
She's capable of pouting, outing, twisting -- 
so humans come out tops again, with "cogit". 

So all these so's, I hear you say: so what? 
Well, what if humans almost reach "divine"? 
Suppose there's something Esther Blodgett's got 
that takes her over life's Dividing Line? 

"Sublunary" means "underneath the moon". 
"Diurnal" means "divided, night and day". 
(Now, please don't chafe: the point is coming soon.) 
Below the line means "subject to decay". 

The moon was key for medieval man, 
because it marked the mortal azimuth -- 
Above, eternal, there since time began: 
below, corrupt, unwholesome, marked for death. 

And now we come to Pius, making saints. 
There's Catherine of Siena, looking flirty: 
They must have used an awesome box of paints -
The chick had been a corpse since thirteen-thirty. 

Above, the Pope, the Cardinals and Kate. 
Below, the groundlings watching it go down. 
Above, all spirit, high, inviolate: 
below, all bulging groin and earthy brown. 

If Kate was Sienese, that's nepotism? 
Why ain't he canonizing Capistrano? 
It's all to do with black and brown and schism. 
Dominicans are gold, the others guano. 

Franciscans are Heart, 
Dominicans are Brain. 
Franciscans use Love, 
Dominicans use Pain. 
Franciscans are Italy, 
Dominicans are Spain.

Premium Member Controlled Fallacy

 Our mind is capable of passing beyond 
the dividing line we have drawn for it.
 Beyond the pairs of opposites, of which
  the world consists - other, new insights
 begin."  --Herman Hesse, on Thought "

Controlled Fallacy 

I could be an enchanted dragonfly,
the one, in a child's storybook
that  lets fairies,
full of magic ride on its back.
I could turn into the wicked dragon
 that lurks 
in all the kingdoms and fiefdoms
or the brave knight
that rescues the poor distressed damsel;
the one who  lives happily ever after,
thereafter or, 
I could be her private aspirations.
Her flight from passion before the rot sets in.
I could be her secret hideaway, where
she touches solitude with reverent fingers.

I could enter reality at this point
so focused that the dragonfly would tumble
into a shriveled heap,
or become a pauper, sitting
on a cold and wind blown, treeless street.
I could be a modern day Cinderella with
a pumpkin Rolls Royce
and stained glass slippers
or,the best friend of an 
English Lord, or the maid who 
every single morning
brings him his breakfast
of kippers.

But I don't want to be an 
enchanted dragonfly.
I want to drive to some remote reality
in a real Rolls Royce
I want -  I want controlled fallacy.
I want caviar- not kippers
I want  a flowing negligee  and
maribou-feathered high heel slides.

I want to be that enchanted princess
who touches solitude with
reverent fingers.
I want to be the smiling
sole, possessor
of a single, stained glass slipper

Suzanne Delaney
 Fantasy Contest - Giorgio V

Torture Within

There is a dividing line between the chasm fault

Some are eager & content to appear righteous yet
They are only fooling themselves through a dance
One in twain marked on its blotted page yet fully intact
Working too hard can give anyone a heart attack

Lines have been drawn in the sand
When will we ever understand?
The visible from the invisible yet now were caught in the middle
Some our eager and content in playin second fiddle?

Clearer heads have prevailed yet

There is still known torture from within my friend
One will take the time out to listen
A sign of grace spread out upon a peyton place
Circumstances all for second glances?

Yet the heart from within will surface again 

Fought back the tears with a smile still to know all the great while
A pen on a paper a stereo to caper
Me & Eric b & a nice cool plate of fish
Sorry to have missed its waiting bliss

In agony we will begin to see
A misfortune to a heightened reality as a key
Soaring ever higher then ever before reaching great heights
Shattered fragments on the pavement floor 

Some are eager & caught in vice
perhaps another chance or a roll of the dice?

Vintage Season

Dew dots the folicles of the earth,
raised in static praise of what came and left,
what dreams did come. 

Blades drank down to dirt and marrow,
parched and harrowed, juandiced in the light of Ra.
But he has gone the way of Tiamat.

Now may stray tears enter the cyclical fray;
the dividing line, terminus heralding the coming of the day.
A vintage season, come to stay and greave for the end of an age.

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