Best Errors Poems
Legacy of Errors
(Epitaph)
An eternity of anguish, endured,
Wounds healed, scars uncured,
A legacy of errors and mistakes,
A lifetime of lessons unlearned,
Won 6th Place in the contest: Any 5 line Poem by friend 'Poet Destroyer':)
Loved, to lose
Lost to love
Why not did I choose
That was Written Above
Never in my world have I had anything to fight for, but you
I've been through hell and back only if you knew
We kept our relationship on the down low
We snuck around so that nobody important would know
We had our moments, were goodbye seemed to long
Even if it was for a minute, it felt so wrong
You left your dad, ran away for a night
Had your godparents worried, and your dad at fright
That was the turning point from good to sour
Now were done, and I feel like I have no power
I cried myself to sleep, woke up with tears
Couldn' beleive it, thought it was a nightmare
It was just reality, it didn't want to sink in
I'll always remember way back when
We cruised around, listening to tangled up in you
Knowing every word was beyond true
What do I do now, where do I start
I gave you my heart, and all you did was tear it appart
You were my strength, that guided my will
You were the pain taken away without the pill
Now your gone, what do I do, what did I do wrong
Do I turn to the bottle, hit up that bong
Im at lost for words, never felt so worthless
but I have a lot to confess
I would do the same for you, Leave out all the rest
Just to show you my love, and how it will never be A test
My fate, Is you, my love is true
without you I'd die, my world would be blue
I'm not loosing my reason to try
I wont give up unti the day thatl I die
It's you I need, and I know you need me
One day, you will know, and be able to see
I will rescue you, even if I have to go through hell
Its you I need, Its you Danielle
You and me belong together
no matter the day, no matter the weather
Through stormy skies, and blizzard like conditions
Always remember, our loves mission
Our heroes past ate on the platter of pain,
in their gravesite we pick grapes of gain.
These living dead have nothing to offer,
they plough and plant...for posterity to suffer.
We are a generation aborted after birth;
alive yet dead in the domain of dearth...
These political parrots speak of change;
but the echoes of their errors sound strange!
When you see errors
Originated from the others
You’ll feel hurt and harm
When you see errors
Wholly emerged from yourself
You’ll be calm and cool
Too sensitive will make life hard
Too ignorant will make life meaningless
Our five gifted senses
Do sense life and its essences
Because we're sensitive and we care
Sensitivity will bring us
Truth and justice
Prevention and salvation
Avoidance of errors, dangers and traps
A better life
A better ideology
A better affection and love
Lastly
A better world to live
For the next generation
Whom we love and care
We've begun to live, spare apart vicariously.
To actively probe and grasp aggressively.
Existentialism and ethics are linked inextricably.
Individual liberty is a wonderful property.
Nonetheless, it is frequently not taken seriously.
We may convey our concerns and difficulty.
We all fathom the same solution to life's mystery
Regardless of our specification, assiduously.
Written: August 11, 2021
Hitler made errors in judgement
If not, his army might've been triumphant
His downright arrogance
Cost him by the evidence
Imagine the impact of his misjudgement
SpellCeckers, Down!
——————————————————————-
I’m Spellcheckers. I’ll read your mind,
Starting always from two lines behind.
So, you’ll use up all your time
Going back to proofread every line,
Not for your errors, but for mine.
I’m a pure-bred SpellCheckers. Even
Presidents, those haughty men,
Don’t like me, like when
I turn “fiend” from “friend,” or, then
When writing the nation’s budgets,
I’ll change their “land”
to “lend.” Hear Ye! I’m more than
A pouf-wearing proofer, I’m Mother!
“I know you better than you do.”
Gimme a second, I’ll proof it to youse
Look, in the necks Poem, I’ll let loose!
———————————————————————————-
(c) sally young Eslinger 12/31/21
merge these errors into a single block...
dump like rubble on the next cliff...
flee before you hear the dry thud of defects
sprawled on the ground claiming its author.
because self-indulgence saves
even if it's fake
like when you disguise
look around awkwardly
wanting to get rid of contamination
brought by the uncomfortable truths
that knocked on your door
Or at that time remember?
you acted with hypocrisy and prejudice
so you lied to yourself
saying it was nothing
saying you were right
it wasn't really you
you were never that bad.
the pattern of self-pity
obeys a rite of pseudo surprise
acts like camphor ointment
relieves the hidden pain but you know
she's here
smiling like little devil
and makes you submerge in an ocean
where shame is the first virtue
to disappear.
I have watched ribbons of life unfurl
twist themselves in their meandering,
and each time distance fades the colours,
and I see all the stitches
holding this web,
strain beneath burdens
while I fabricate more threads.
There are regrets that fill a sigh,
where left was a dead end
along a one way street,
and oh how it hurt to scrape
my way through each stone-wall
until fingers, like sorry were worn away.
So many escaped balloons,
floating in hope of a safe landing,
left grasped in a lattice of loneliness,
or simply rubbish dangling from life’s tree,
but I understand,
that each of the ribbons, stitches, roads
and balloons fulfilled their part of the journey,
leading me closer to life;
to understanding.
Traces of errors - demarcate my past mistakes - I could not erase.
While perfectionists - are gluttons for misery - hints they can't redeem,
like beaches, victims - left barren of memories - surging waves stroked clean.
I welcome the sight - of my miscalculations - to refine my trace.
Unhesitantly - why seak perfection with one stroke!? - Far better to strive.
With pencil in hand - I raise my blunt graphite sword - better live, than die.
by,
Martin Braun
3/25/2020
ERRORS
Popes are infallible.
God inspired Pope Urban VIII to say that Galileo was in error.
The idea is infantile, unintelligible.
Either God was wrong, or Urb’s inspiration was not from God’s furor,
Or are Popes not infallible?
Gasoline is inflammable and volatile.
If we throw a match into the gastank this is an error.
The idea is unintelligible, infantile
Either the match is to blame, or the idea is somebody else’s terror,
Or is gasoline not inflammable and volatile?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTE
“Inflammable” is UK English for “flammable” in US English.
Turmoil, turmoil and turmoil
Not a day at peace
Errors, slips, omissions
And their hangover
Self cursing and repentance
Has become the order of the day
But, not one or two
Many live in peace
Living in bigger storms and turbulence
The wise ones do not react
They reconcile, respond
And remain calm
Life is not your subsidiary
It is a stream of unchartered waters
One has to sail according to its currents
Washed out are those
Who ignore its spirit
Essence lies in acceptance
Enjoin the gain, forget the lost
Loss is a realty, not unlike gains
All is not yours
You will get only your share
Contentment is the password
To happiness and joy
THE TWO GREAT ERRORS!
-Dharga Nagar Safa
The two great errors,
Adam punished,
ColumbUS rewArded!