Best Escalate Poems


Premium Member Children of a Lesser God

I’m tired of knowing
That because of my race
Because of where I live
Because of my last name
I’m part of the band…
The children of a lesser God

I’m tired of knowing
That there is so much hate
That it can only escalate
Till someone presses the button
And we blow up in nuclear hate
All because
Some of us are children…
Children of a lesser God

First world 
Second world
Third world
Labels and degrees
Different ideologies
Religion no longer a balm
But something to cause harm
Human life of differing values
We mourn them differently
for some of them are children...
Children of a lesser God

How it must make God cry
When His children bleed and die
Unable to understand
That there is a grander plan
One of perfect harmony
In another place in time

He won’t be sitting at heaven’s gate
Asking for an ID
Or checking your nationality
He won’t see the color of your face
Or ask about your race
All He will want to know
Is if you let love grow
Did you live according to His will?
Did you try to relieve suffering and pain?
Were you the bandage of peace
that bound up the wounds of hate?

First, second, third world people
Are all children of one God
Though some may disagree
I ask you all to see
That we are all
Every single one of us...
Children of the Greatest God.

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Premium Member Charlottesville

I saw Nazis march yesterday
upon the streets of Charlottesville.
And, with swastikas on display,
crazed clansmen chanted blood will spill.

I saw Satan grinning with pride
at racial slurs shouted in hate.
And, bigots standing by his side
help the violence escalate.

I saw torches light up the night,
snaking through the black neighborhoods.
And skinheads looking for a fight; 
all that was missing were white hoods.

I saw white supremacists, proud
of drawing blood and spreading fear.
And a car plow into the crowd,
its intentions made all too clear.

I saw President Trump place blame
on both sides for this killing spree.
And, a shocked nation reel in shame
at how prejudiced he could be.

I saw the projected end of
tolerance and democracy.
And, mantras of hate replace love
with smugness and hypocrisy.


Quatrain


8/13/2017
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Live Or Die, You Couldn'T Do Both

Live Or Die, You Couldn't Do Both

Upon that dark ground, life was bloody and blue
all dark mists brought more than was due.
Dusty storms, blew about with black hands of Fate
lost as hurt seemed to escalate.

Within hidden shrouds, nights ate sad, dying souls
you cried within odd rhythmic rolls.
Never again, never again, your sworn oath
live or die, you couldn't do both.

Crying for rest on that spirit-eating ground
dancing along but with no sound.
Whenever that rare day's gleaming sun did shine
you grabbed it fierce, saying its mine.

Greatest of dreams was life would find saving lights
hope shown, banishing blackest nights.

Robert J. Lindley,  11-13-2016

Sonnet form, Lin 11, 8  ...


Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 11 8 11 8 0 11 8 11 8 0 11 8 11 8 0 11 8
Total # Syllables: 133 
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A 
Total # Words: 102
Form: Sonnet


Premium Member Displaced In Kathmandu

Our dinner, boiled to death root vegetables, we swallow in silence as night closes-in on the school. The co-opted Buddhist monastery housing us empties its porcelain thrones into the walled garden’s weedy rear yard. Village women wash: the floors, the pots, the laundry from first light to deep dark. The water runs downhill. War does not stop the drudgery. Where the women sleep is unknown to us. The owners’ are small men; they rule the house with a heavy hand. They teach the techniques of shamanic healing and Thai Massage.

the Green Tara
hangs upon the room's wall:
geraniums on the ledge

The drowse of Friday evening evaporates in a burst of gunfire. Behind the high walls surrounding the school, the sounds of violence escalate. Through open, screen-less, windows sirens sound, the sky lights up and red, yellow, blue, and white prayer flags hang lifelessly from the eaves to the locked gate. Sleep hides, as I do, beneath the covers. 

coiled 
insecticide smolders:
temple bells sound

The monks, long gone, leave remnants of themselves on the incense coated plaster. Peace sought here was not found. Poverty necessitated the building’s sale. Here on a side street in walking distance from the American embassy, a school for westerner’s storm cellars. The desire to learn Eastern Healing techniques and a common language, English, binds us together: American, French, Spanish, and South African captures of the internet, pilgrims. We come, healers all, undaunted by the Civil War, to Kathmandu, Nepal.
 
Monday, the riots end on cue. Tourists, again, meander the dust clouded streets, skirting the alley’s begging children. Tea is served in the burgeoning shops. Butchers swat flies from hanging haunches of meat, rare bird vendors walk the street with baskets of exotic birds. And, brazen Westerners stride bare armed, sari-less exposed, and rude, at least until next Friday night—they own the world.


First Published by Mulberry Fork 2016
Form: Haibun

Premium Member Destined To Love

    "Destined to Love"



twilight Moon cascades, haunting tapestry
as hearts incline to secrets of mellow night
clandestine caresses embrace 'neath canopy
 lovers silhouette engage in sweet romantic flight
ascending to voluminous height.

in ebony atmosphere, flirtatious fondling ignites fire
as breathless succulence invades flesh and bone
with adventurous satisfaction, love pursues deepest desire
while sequined stars illuminate soft tone
captivating aura of mysterious moan.

forbidden fruit lies tenderly amidst dew-kissed heather
hypnotic force of true love refused to be denied
petite vision in chantilly lace and supple leather
emotions escalate vast inner feelings to subside
love conquers life, happiness cried.

a lovers touch creates palatial garden of delight
a beautiful expression accentuating rare romance
inhaling fragile fragrance although their precious plight
encircles pair in eternal dance
succumbing to the power of temptation's trance.

twilight Moon cascades, haunting tapestry
gently, pure white wings of turtledove
whispers an evening song 'neath lovely canopy
while heavenly stardust shimmers from above
smiling upon lovers destined to love.


*For old romantic poems Contest..

Premium Member Young Minds

young impressionable minds today
fearless leaders of tomorrow
years in between will pass
will slip away in a flash
under our tutelage
our guidance
our encouragement
our influence
our illusion of dominance
that for some
will escalate
to abuse of power
to oppression
extinguishing the light
within a child
one at a time
nothing short of 
exterminating
dreams of tomorrow
bursting the bubbles
of confidence
meant to lead to stellar feats
             


AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Posted on March 25, 2019


My Letter To Santa

Dear Santa

You see Santa,
In just a few days it would have been my brother's 30th birthday
Would've been a big celebration 
Instead I will be spending it alone 
Lost in all kinds of thoughts and emotions again 
          angry
       heartbroken
          crying
Missing him even more than you can imagine

You see Santa
I never said goodbye to him that day
I never told him I loved him that day
BECAUSE I WASN'T HOME that day
My guilt still burn it hurts more than ever 
Sometimes I wonder if he was mad I wasn't there
And that escalate to another level of guilt

So Santa
What I'm asking you is 
If you can deliver a message to my brother
Please tell him I wish him 
 "a Heavenly happy 30th birthday"
      And that I love him forever 
I'm sure he's having a big white Heaven's garden birthday party with all the Angels

Tell him I can't wait for when my time is come, we need to have a serious chat about our promises to be the god-parent to each other's kid... what's up with that! 
Well I'm just as happy I can't ever have kids in this physical world without him being the god-father

Santa,
Please bring me back a message from my brother
I need to hear it...



12-05-17
Contest: Move me and others
Sponsored by: Madison Demetros

The Rise and Fall of Mankind

In essence the unconscious mind,
   Reveals all knowledge for mankind.
   To pursue dreams, each vision brings,
   Then soar above the earth on wings.
   We navigate uncharted shores,
   In oceans deep, mankind explores.
   Now Astronauts walk on the moon,
   And vaccines keep us all immune.
   While seeking methods,to ensure,
   Research disease to find a cure.
   Now if we want to travel far,
   There's railways, aeroplanes, or car.
   Some might say, it's so much finer
   Cruising on an ocean liner.
   Or any time we are alone,
   Our friends can call by mobile phone.
   And television let's us share,
   Events worldwide, in our armchair.
   We speak with words for to converse,
   But language sometimes can be terse.
   In truth some minds are always blind,
   With grandeur of a certain kind.
   As mankind shows his cruel face,
   Destroying life, to his disgrace.
   By wars that escalate unchecked,
   Whilst innocents, their lives are wrecked.
   For Peacemakers, they clutch at straws,
   To find someway to end those wars.
   Their supreme efforts are in vain,
   No changing minds of those insane
   It seems that only peace can be,
   In virtual reality.

     4/22/2016.
     For the Innate Magnetism poetry contest.
     Sponsor. Unseeking Seeker.
     Date of contest end. 
     Friday November 11th 2022.
     Armistice Day of Remembrance.
 
  
.
Form: Didactic

Premium Member Senior Year

It began on a high note
Dreams of a New Frontier
Those dreams were shattered in Texas
In the Fall of the same year
Christmas time was solemn
Before the storm there was the calm
We saw them escalate a war
Sending our young to Vietnam
It was a vibrant time to be alive
A good invasion hit our shore
The British sent their music
Our lives would be changed forever more
The times they were “a changing”
Was it better, was it worse
There was no time for apathy
Was it a blessing or a curse
In June came graduation
The fulfillment of our dreams
The Four Seasons sang about a Rag Doll
We were introduced to the Supremes
Now that our senior year was over
And we would go our separate ways
There remained a bond to hold us
Until our dying days
Some went off to college
Not knowing what’s in store
Almost all would serve their country
Some went off to war.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Pressure

It’s May 18th, 2022. I’m poised, alone, heart pounding, in front of my laptop, waiting for courage, my finger hovering over the return key, like a child hoping the timing of my keystroke will bring me luck.

I took this summer off - which drove my mom absolutely CrAzY. “You CAN’T!” she’d said last month, only to be overruled by my Grandmère. Now I’m home for summer break and tonight she’s flush with exasperation. 

“You should have applied for a dean’s fellowship,” she said, her voice rising as she rubs her hands together, as if scrubbing for an operating room procedure, “and a summer research position!” She’s practically twirling with suppressed emotion.

I get why she’s upset. She only goes “deep end” when she's worried about my future. She knows what’s needed to get a medical school slot in 2025 like other moms know their favorite recipe - after all, she’s done this twice before. 

Leong’s upstairs, avoiding this family scene. When I described my family expectations as “hustle culture,” to my roommates, they all understood - we’re that much alike.

Step (my stepfather) is trying to de-escalate and calm us (her) down. “Look,” he says, holding up his hands like someone talking down a gunman, “NEXT summer she’ll buckle down, get in more volunteer hours and get a dean’s research fellowship” he says, sliding his eyes to me. I nod “ok” almost imperceptibly. “It’s ok to start grinding sophomore year - that’s what I did.” 

OOOO! She turned to him and if looks could kill, he would have exploded like someone in a Tarantino movie. 

By some psychic grace my Grandmère chose that moment to call. Step and I fled the den like it were on fire, going our separate ways to halve the chance of being followed.

In my dark room, lit only by the light of my MacBook, a quiver runs through me, and I finally press return. My grades for Spring semester - and Freshman year come up. My eyes water and I relax back against my chair when I see “Dean's List.” 

I smile to myself, and slowly, fiercely I clench my fist with a “YESS!" As I postulate my victorious reprieve.

The Message of the Cross

The Message of The Cross

We are living in a troubled world
Where people’s minds are in great turmoil
Society is alarmed at the divorce rate
And child abuse cases continue to escalate
The fabric of society is shaken 
And many are emotionally broken
But one thing that remains unshaken
Is the message of the Cross

Chorus
The Cross offers hope and peace of mind
In Jesus you can gain a life sublime
So if you don’t want to be lost
You must kneel at the cross

Are you alarmed at the calamities around you?
And worried about your job and your future too?
Are you troubled by the diseases of this age?
Are you anxious about paying off your mortgage?
Well, I just really want to let you know
That there is one thing for sure
God will always make a way 
If you only look to Him today
It’s the message of the Cross

Chorus
The Cross offers hope and peace of mind
In Jesus you can gain a life sublime
So if you don’t want to be lost
You must kneel at the cross

Now even in your quarantine and lockdown
You can embrace his tranquility and freedom
 Do not focus on the things that are earthly
For they are deceitful and only temporary
Just keep your eyes on the Father above
For through Jesus He demonstrated his great love
He was crucified for you and me
And his salvation is rich and free
And that’s the message of the Cross

Chorus
The Cross offers hope and peace of mind
In Jesus you can gain a life sublime
So if you don’t want to be lost
You must kneel at the cross

Clare Adams
12/4/20
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Superstition

In naive minds where paranoid whispers spread,
superstitions escalate through ancient lies.
An omen of fear that fills a heart with dread.
Be it the number thirteen or black cat's eyes.
Although sometimes things in life really 'suck,'
shattering a mirror is simply bad luck.
The voice of reason will provide you relief.
Common sense prevails when faith is your belief.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rispetto

Premium Member Common Sense

When people aren't right
 I head for the door.
 I no longer ask, why, or what for??
 When people escalate
 I look for the gate, because
 you know things aren't going that great..
 I did not cause their anger
 I did not cause their pain
 I'm not their therapists
 there is no monetary gain..
 I avoid their toxicity by escaping the vicinity..
 It's not that complicated
 their anger can't be negated..
 don't be a target and don't be dense
 just remove their audience, it's just common sense.

Premium Member How Do You Feel

How do you feel with so many people dying suddenly?
This issue has overflowed like a volcano and can no longer be ignored
How do you feel seeing a range of disabilities in previous healthy people?
Do you have a plan? Do you have a hidden voice wanting to scream?
Do you hide truth that you know, due to division and attacks?
Do you feel hopeless or powerless as this situation continues to escalate?
We are not either of these, when we are united with love and truth
We outnumber any of our corrupt enemies or people with bad intentions
We have strength if we have faith and we have hope when we choose to see
How do you feel when you see an injured bird recover and take flight?
How do you feel when you see a sunrise start a new beginning?
In our lives loss is inevitable, with so many so fast, it feels like a tidal wave
Still, your soul is on the land of God’s creation that helps you in many ways
You are alive; made to feel, see, speak and be who you are born to be!
Each sunrise gives you a day to rise, a day to shine and a day to be wise
As time ticks and wildlife chooses to visit, remember the freedom you are meant to have!

Heidi Sands

1/22/23

Nun Fun In the Sun

NUN FUN IN THE SUN

There was in hot Tashkent in the orient
A religious uprising - a  convent dissent.
Army was ordered in with gunnery,
The soldiers targeted the nunnery.  
 
Here are the events in vista: 
One lovely sista was forbidden a mista, 
But a certain young soldier kissed her
Unaware of the portents
For the jewel of the convent’s contents.

In her cell he wanted his love to foister.
(She had made his cloister moister.)
His inclination was to osculate ;
The incident threatened to escalate.
 
Her kiss made him forget his gun,
Which overheated in the sun.
The magazine cooked until done, 
Then bang,  their love was gone.
Form: Footle

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