Best Farfetched Poems
We are the generation
of discontinued imagination.
With our twisting words
you’ll drink in
desperately.
Our beautiful stories
spun from the nothingness.
Shadows of hope
glimmering in the distance.
Farfetched aspirations
that will never be reached.
We are the hopeless romantics
you all wish you could be.
We are amazing with words
yet terrible with people.
We know what to say
and when
without missing a beat.
We are dreamers
and wishful thinkers
and procrastinators beyond belief.
We have hope
for things you
cannot fathom achieving.
We are desperate
for approval
yet hard to convince.
Destined for greatness
that will probably be missed
We are the socially anxious,
hopeful,
and descriptive
pessimists.
We are the ones
you wish you could be.
We are heartbreakers
because we are lost.
We are lonely
but happy.
So trust me when I say:
don’t fall in love
with a poet,
unless you are ready
to become one.
As We Look Toward The Sky
Zillions of specs in our vast universe, and
You, our amazing Earth, are among them!
Xanadu! For sure, we're blessed! We are here
With mysteries, deep and unknown in this
Vastness of cosmos that spreads endlessly,
Under which we exist, thrive and progress.
Thank God for our Earth, planets and stars!
Sometimes, impossible to understand—
Relating to puzzles of life, space and time—
Questions and answers, to why we are here
Pertaining to the relevance of all that's out there.
Of course when we think about the beyond,
Now, as creatures of Earth, we do wonder if
Millions of light years away are there those
Likely to gaze at their own skies; do they have
Knowledge of earthlings—we live and are here?
Justly, they have their own suns and moons—
It's not too farfetched a fact to surmise.
How and when will wanted answers explain
Great questions about our mystical space?
Forever and always is our deep wish to know.
Entwined with this endless, vast cosmic space, we
Dream of solving the mysteries that are
Called to our minds as we look toward the sky—
Bejeweled with magnificent shining stars—
And fathom the meaning of our Universe.
Sandra M. Haight
~6th Place~
Contest: First Ever ZYX Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 10/14/2015
Scientists claim the big bang was the first sound ever, not knowing how hard milkyway had to beg forever so they could team up to imitate us, first in supernovas, then in rainbows and Pleiades clusters, and they kept trying over and over and over again.
One hundred billion years, two hundred billion trials, three hundred billion stars yet you are my only reason of existence, even before dust, stories, light, sound and distance, even before eternity tore the pages containing our names from the book of constellations and watched how they dangled amidst tragic cosmic stories on the endless skin that streched past the eyelashes of infinity, you were my big bang.
And I'm not saying had it been milkyway haven't got tired of trying, came to me that day and asked how I did it, we wouldn't have been here, for each time my heart skipped a beat was a planet yet to be known, each time you said "I love you" was a big bang of its own, and I'd say your eyes were my Jupiter because I get lost everytime you looked at me like an astronaut in a cosmic zone, but, I always find you, even without Galileo's telescope, like a shooting star touching the hands of the most advanced lens, like a farfetched comet tracing edges of your words and your silence, in everything reflex, like every time you flinch when your maths teacher mentions X. Let it be anywhere, farther than the edges of the compass, beyond kuiper belts or anywhere, there is this maze in the lines of my fingerprints, a room in the dubs of my heartbeats, a street in this memory lane, and I always find you there, as an emblem of sanctuary.
-Mr.X
©26.01.2022
Excerpted from 'The book of Constellations'
Five
Fancy
Fleshy
Foxy
Friends
Followed
Feather-like
Finery
For
Fun-filled,
Flashy
Farfetched
Floppy
Flip-flops
Forever
Flowered.
We lost our “UMOJA”, the basic concept and core value of our being “We, therefore, I am”, at the time of our history that began some 300 years ago. We didn’t step on the soil of New World with a dream like many others, but hauled on the ground like a cargo as merchandise. We were each treated individually as a unit but not tied as a family or group bonded together by the same dialect.
Misery was the food we’d been feeding to fill our empty stomach, agony was the water we’d been drinking to quench our thirst, depth of our footmarks were the weights we’d been carrying, our lives were trial after trial of thorny path. No matter how hard we worked, our baskets were empty. No matter how much we labored, returns of our toils were unbearable lashes. No matter how humbly we begged and ardently prayed, God always turned His face away from us.
But all those detestable days are gone as second millennium faded away. Shackles of curse are removed from our neck and wrists. Our burdens are removed from our back. The reward of our day’s of labor is reasonable wage. Why don’t we embrace one another with joy because only thing remain is our determination.
As daybreak sun is rising from yonder horizon, our darkest day has passed; for daybreak light is brighter than ever and pleasant as spring breath, we have good reason to celebrate for a moment. Nevertheless, don’t prolong the time of festival because it may make you stray from reality and to dwell in farfetched world.
As long as you don’t fold the wings but spread wide and keep flapping them, though sometimes encountering high wind, you can fly higher than the highest ridges of a mountain. If you keep swimming upstream, though you may confront falls and rapids, you’ll come to your old home where your parents risked their lives to spawn and enable you to hatch from an egg one day, and rejoice overflowing water in the ocean to gladden your life. If you dart with a swift gallop not abandoning tomorrow’s dream, no matter how immeasurably vast is the wilderness, you’ll reach the horizon before sun sinks into the other side of the world.
It’s the time to restore our “UMOJA” a laudable custom once we lost during our darkest days, recover “UMOJA” our ancestral heritage the good moral standard to sustain “I as us.”
Animation I grew up with,
Bride of fantasy stories.
Comedy with action I watch,
Death of worries I snatch.
Earth of penitence is
Fist of imagination I sense.
Girdle of suffocation, I sike
Hinterland of minds, I hike.
Insatiable finds take off
Juggernaut of marvels thereof.
Kommandatura with style,
Love of sequels I file.
Mysteries of lifestyle are not farfetched,
Nincompoops play unwretched.
Over and under a replay of streams --
Posthumously acclaimed.
Quondam penners survived,
Reminiscences of sets --
Sets of scenes and takes,
Travesty of the reclaimed.
Up, up and away
Victory not far away.
Wonders of life in a bucket
Xanadu of strife in a socket.
Yabadabadoo!
Zen of life.
I seek a place that leaves no trace
Of venomous blood and tainted heart
I seek a place that holds only grace
Of righteous hearts and caring thoughts
I seek a place that broods not on hate
But of a tranquilized soul and an intellectual eye
I seek a place that is haven to a guilt-filled heart
Let it not, Oh! Wretched Passionate heart!!
Let me not succumb to such ardency
Let me not, dear god! Yield in to such tyranny
To extract such murky ardor is all I ask
I dine with seething lassitude brought forth by such a task
Dear nature where has it gone, my obliged gratitude
From you, I have averted a heart
That comes to you now seeking! Asking! Groveling! For pardon
Almighty nature, which once has soothed a brute within me
Please! Dear god! I beg thee do not forsake
I come to you humbly meekly seeking an unfeasible amnesty
For I drown in to the abyss of thirst of farfetched enlightenment
And only now I know“how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, and how
much happier that man is who believes his native town to be the world, than he who
aspires to become greater than his nature will allow.”
*Inspired by Frankenstein’s tormented conscious *
~M.M.M
Das Decrements Describe Digs ©
Grasping figurative literary straws
poetic theme yielded
farfetched aggregate
i.e., where each dwelling
listed as figurative Stormy bedmate,
this nada so eminent (Eminem fan)
lived since the year MM at:
1148 greentree lane,
724 railroad avenue, and
2 highland manor drive, which
defy obvious numerical pattern relationship,
albeit tougher than dismantling
an atomic bomb
Fermi (Enrico) to create
least common denominator
nonetheless, aye delineate
laughably limpid, loquaciously lumped,
and ludicrously as an Uber Lyft
(please lemme look foolish)
evincing desperate clamor
ring blather already
prepping myself for fallout after,
I post very tenuous
schema attempting to enumerate
loosely linkedin previous
to present physical addresses
straining credulity to formulate
formulaic relationship between
street numbered residential places,
futile endeavor mathematical
relationship to generate
readying myself (hatches
being battened down) against
first responder, who
doth dare to humiliate,
this self serving ingrate
gnome hatter hood
awkwardly entwine goofily integrate
ting (Spike Lee's
She's Gotta Have It)
"FAKE" self importance,
sans presenting schema
with literary Bo Jangles
flourishes, that (EGADS) doth jaculate
utter cheek to jowl (consonant
to vowel) outstanding
Uttar Pradesh Khanate,
nonetheless strives to
feign making Genghis
(alias Matthew Scott)
Harris heirs legitimate
if necessary calling on
Trump to mandate
and/or asking supreme
court to necessitate
putting sanctions against
quasi (moe toe)
POTUS oxymorons
so American totalitarianism
can freely operate
in tandem with
Putin to participate!
Yesterday I thought about the fears of tomorrow
All day I was sucked in that vacuum of sorrow
My worries weren’t grounded in reality
Troubles like these are not an extension of me
Seemed like the dread made sense at the start
So authentic, as if it came from a flow chart
Farfetched though, this assessment that I contrived
Away like some theories that are no more than jive
Now I must tell the truth by stating that fear
It is embarrassing, I know, but I need to be clear
Looks like I’m deathly afraid to step on a crack
As I was told, it’s apt to break my mother’s back
Though how could that be? Well, I never asked
They’re quite certain though, that she’d end up in a cast
Here and now, we are starting the official today
To which I must chance it, by walking a sidewalk all day
Stay in doors? I wish. Oh yes, I wish there was a way!
Oh, I suppose I could walk with a certain cadence
I think that I can step on the concrete in segments
Believe me, it’s been done, coz when I look around
In my own neighborhood, and in our larger town
Yesterday I saw mothers; their outlook is sound
Perhaps in another i.e. alternate world, this middled aged (baby boomer bona fide bra burner) of two well nigh near grown daughters felt caught in an invisible whirled wide web The Parent Trap.
Oft times, the languid days of his life seem to revisit a parallel universe, where sequels continue to air years since family time constituted shared watching thee designated Verizon Fios fiber optic channels favor by the youngest.
I confess sitting transfixed in from the television (back in the days when me girls attended grade school) marveling at the camera tricks purportedly played identical twins Hallie and Annie, but in reality the prepubescent actress averred asper the title of this missive.
A series of unfortunate events (perhaps abetted by Lemony Snicket) found these fictitious, marvelous, and vivacious separated in life soon after their parents divorced.
Happenstance and cutting edge cunning movie making wizardry linkedin believable existence of two exact looking innocent ingenues incorporating various tricks of the filming, directing, and acting of said nymph actress.
Some fluke chance encounter when both “girls” attended the same summer camp allowed, enabled, and provided the raw fitbits, whence each respective lass discovered visa vis via question asked and answered, that they shared the same mother and father.
Soon after this unexpected (believably conceived drama), they secretly plotted to reunite their estranged parents.
Although farfetched (which plot twist stretched to the realm of possible feasibility), nonetheless the story continued to offer appeal even after numerous viewings), when both my darling dimpled daubed daughters reveled in such small screen young adult age appropriate materiel.
Within a similar vein, the gestalt viz zit hid within Freaky Friday (also starring the same teenage uber vixen) gal riddled with an identity crisis twas ably, admirably, and affably evincing the crisis of fifteen year old Anna (also Lindsay Lohan).
Terrorism,I venerate your abject cowardice
Preying on amiable,zealous souls' innocence
Your farfetched,timorous scheme to hide
Among aborigines and by pugnacious animosity abide.
I grew up in Bath in the nineteen nineties
wearing short shorts over tighty whities,
while Bath were champions of English Rugby,
a beautiful city farfetched from ugly.
We played on Stilts and had Yo-Yo's,
skateboards with logo's,
Tamagotchi's, Slinkys and Pogo Sticks,
a string tied to sticks for Diablo tricks.
A lot wobbled, we played Wall Ball,
Smarties packets caused trouble.
Political Correctness didn't exist yet,
we wore Reebok, Fila or Hi-Tec.
We had Roller Skates, later Roller Blades,
out on the concrete in the streets we played,
as there were always lots of parking spaces,
space we used for running races.
We played Bulldogs Charge on repeat,
never stopping for the rain or sleet.
We played Wembley, or Heads, Volleys and Beats,
playing in the street our daily treat.
We played Kirby because kirbs were free,
40 40 in, also called Alien,
front gardens were a great WWF ring,
or we'd hit tennis balls tied to string.
Jumpers for goalposts,
or one and a lamppost,
cheated as we'd peek
playing Hide And Seek.
We played Knock Knock Ginger with its hiding,
or we'd get out our bikes and go riding.
We went Garden Hopping, never stopping,
played in the dark after the suns dropping.
We had Master Systems, Mega Drives or Nintendo's,
but were not reliant on technology inside,
we built Lego stadiums, played Subbuteo,
we collected sticker books, Pog's and trading cards with pride.
There was a fuzziness to Radio and TV,
we'd always sneak a peek at Page 3,
we watched films on VHS, played Cassettes or CD's,
or Conkers when they dropped from trees.
We only had four television channels to be flicking,
Saturday mornings were for Live and Kicking.
Bodger and Badger, The Chuckle Brothers, Rosie and Jim,
but you couldn't beata, bit of Blue Peter,
to Neighbours and Home and Away we tuned in.
When home alone emptied living rooms,
played football inside, 2-a-side,
cleaned up damage with brooms,
when parents got home we lied.
I'm proud I grew up in the nineties in Bath,
we had so much fun, so many laughs.
From no other time and place I'd rather be,
so here's to the nineties in the West Country.
let's get irrational
let's imaginatively think
let's quotient ideas fractional
let's think up primes distinct
let's see what we can make of it
let's examine possibilities
let's toss away the parity bit
let's forgo responsibilities
let's universally go to edge
let's carry ones to tens
let's farfetched, forgo a hedge
let's do it all over again
let's raise our lives so inclined
let's jump over the tick of time
© Goode Guy 2013-12-02
maybe it's really simple math that adds up
Behind every door, you'll find a window
But what you find might not come so simple...
Sudden surprises, split second mistakes
Who's to know what hearts will break
Farfetched ideas, practical jokes
Make-believe, a life ending hoax
Constant moaning, tax collectors phoning
Diseases running rapid, aids even roaming
Children stop growing, with nobody knowing
The world in a spin, while mouths they are foaming
Youth they are zoning, trying to get in and see what is going
But something so wrong, has ended our song
We no longer belong, no one left to be strong
It's like a disease that we can't even seize
So we stay on our knees, always asking God please
Please lend us the keys, to get out and break free
So just maube again, I'll be able to see
Everything that I can, and am needed to be
But to sit here and wait, it has ended our fate
Love it comes second rate, nothing left to now take
It must be some mistake, no more time to shed hate
Or believe what is fake
For now it is time to show love for hope's sake
Ashes, a commanding presence of ashes
The sparkling blade edges of a once upon star
The surrendering will of a fighting soul
The unspoken word, in the mingling of mockery
The forgiving memory of an ecstasy
Some things just got to give
Before the tablets of gold are unseen
There is a heaven underneath
Elegance so deep and intense
Like the captivating black shimmers
Of a frame gripping stallion
Maybe the eyes of doves are farfetched
Maybe the sun stricken sky is too high
Or just maybe the stars will never shoot
After all, our courses must vary
Or else there will be no queens
No audience to watch the proud peacocks
We all stand in our story line
Hope clustered worn souls
Searching for our silver lining
In the awakening moonlights gaze
Eagerly waiting for our plate of silver
Yet even when the last plate is served
We need not shed a thousand tears
Because soon the diamonds will bow
And we will unwind the willing hearts
That they may fly above the seas
Of this earth’s invention
Cut through the notorious waters
With deep piercing innocent eyes
Can you see what I see?
The reflection is clear and crystal
Heaven is just