Best Faults Poems
Some people come to church just to be seen
No Holy nor any Ghost in them can be gleaned
Now Jesus was in the temple
Teaching a class
Until some Pharisees came to Him
Acting like an ass
They presented a woman to Him
Whom they say committed adultery
Trying to set a trap attempting
To rebuke His sovereignty
Jesus drew a line in the sand
And He then spoke at last
He said "he who is without sin
Be first a stone to cast"
To focus on the faults of others
Causes one to neglect one's own responsibilities
Preoccupied with other's wrongdoings
Makes one blind to their own atrocities
Now I have to ask this one question
Where did they find that woman at?
For in order to accuse her of adultery
One of them must have participated in fact
To look into others lives
Is not your purpose not reason for being
Stay in your lane and focus on
The road you are seeing
Too preoccupied with the faults of others
And not addressing your own shortcomings
Minding someone else's business
An enterprise you're not even running
Instead of looking at someone else's load
You should be looking at the Lord
Staying on your road
And all will be above board
So don't look left, don't look right
Just keep looking straight ahead
Be a productive human being
And by the Holy Spirit now led
To be a help and not a hindrance
To your fellow man
Not preoccupied with the faults of others
But to lift up and help stand
So stay in your lane
And guard your behavior
Focus on teaching others to do right
Like Jesus the Christ Our Savior
Not all my faults were mine
See, if you follow every line,
Cracked yearly by life's quakes
After every turn she takes
What did not fall apart
Was recycled, to restart,
Not knowing now or then
She'd fractured, yet again
Basking on bone and skin
A wrinkle forms, o, so thin,
A crevice I cannot erase
From neither body or face
Find me as I am today
Scattered, every which way,
Debris making up my shell
Altogether, a story do tell
From their beginnings humble
To ending all a jumble,
I, not smooth nor fine
Not all my faults were mine.
I remember sitting at a friends place
his grand daughter was watching television
he walked in demanded in a loud voice
it's my television I pay the bill
turned over to watch sports
the child broken hearted said nothing
but went off by herself
growing up his children had rebelled
one of them broke twenty six windows
in the school and I wondered
how much rebellion was created by
"It's my television"
the children went off to their room
separating themselves from the family
running each other down
the children lost respect for the adults
with out respect they became rebellious
so much better to let the child watch cartoons
to share the love of family
to share the love of each other
In so many ways these were good people
and the children didn't rebel forever
most went on to build a good career
yet little faults sometimes make us struggle.
Spring is not all about charming beauty.
Like all seasons, Spring has her many faults.
Spring Cleaning, once a chore and main duty,
Lies deeply hidden in my secret vault.
I might as well mention angry weather--
Gale Wind, along with partner, Blowing Dust.
Grit covers all, I would so much rather
hear lovely raindrops than a windy gust.
Cold lingers, at night I can feel its chill.
Altho sky is soft blue, trees remain bare.
We often need to don a warm coat...still,
there's a magic restlessness in the air.
Spring's preparing her grandest arrival
featuring buds of green--life's survival!
January 30, 2023
for Michelle Faulkner's "Spring is Not All" poetry contest
I have several toxic habits - I know - because I read an article on the web.
It’s a miracle I’m not an axe murderer, based on what the experts said.
I use “should” biased judgements - when things go amiss.
I think about the future, when settling down to rest.
I obsess on defining the “best part” in each of my experiences.
I often think in poetic terms - which has driven wise men delirious.
I have nova bursts of interest - which escalate into crushes.
I keep a mental list of incidents which, if left unmanaged, lead to grudges.
The flaws go on and on - God, I simply am a mess.
I need to face my many flaws so that they might be addressed.
Do you think anyone is ever perfect?
Is it like playing whack-a-mole?
So that no one ever ends up perfect - they simply end up old?
Sometimes I am bothered by the haunted heart in him
He hides the person from deep within,
The kind who fears regret now tries hard -
Defying mistakes as cautioned as he maybe
Disguising loneliness in fraud of falling in love,
He earned his master’s
I've seen him smile without a joy
Those bright eyes, now becomes smoky gray
Like it left his enchanting soul clouded
His pleading gestures filled with cold caresses
A touch of ghost he possesses.
The detailed love for adventure passes
Like a tree that is left in adapting seasonal changes.
For every actions he had not taken
The words I supposed had spoken
And the longings now teary forgotten
I wish I could be of more certain
For I am guilty and responsible maiden
Admitting fault on my toes, As I am his ruined.
--km
Yesterday, I lied.
I faked a laugh and
g r o a n e d.
In fake satire,
but that was a
lie.
I fake a lot of things:
-regret
-happiness
-completion
-sympathy
But darling (another lie), I did not feign affection.
All my faults shatter like crystals
when my laughter hides them from others...
I do deny they exist
when they don't hurt the least;
get to know them to avoid surprises.
How do I love thee? Let me count thy faults.
Many to list, many to count, many more to say,
Things to fix, things to change, oh!
I should have told you all this yesterday.
Your nose is long, your ears are longer,
Your eyes like glassy golf balls slick with slime.
Your hair is tangled, your coat looks ruffled,
Fido, get out of here, you’re wasting my time!
Oh honey, dear, that wasn’t to you!
I was only talking to the dog!
But its true, your eyebrows are thick,
Your cheeks bulge like a frog.
You want this, you want that,
Oh, must I buy you that new blouse?
Your jeans are crinkled, socks are wrinkled,
But, of course, you don’t look lousy!
Your teeth are crooked, your hands are knarled,
Your pimples clustered and grouped.
Surely you must offer me more
Than the hag standing before me so stooped.
But darling, dear, I love you so,
I’ll buy you all you want!
For love is all I need to have
To shield my eyes from all your faults.
Inspired by Elizabeth Barret Browning's Sonnet 43
If only preoccupied ourselves with our faults and not with the faults of others
Certain it would be our character sooner to improve than that of our brothers!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
22 May 2021
It isn't hard to see the faults,
Of all those 'round about us,
And point them out to others,
As we make note of the status,
Of those who seem to lean toward,
A certain type of weakness,
While building up our vision,
Of our own virtues and meekness.
It seems we tend to turn blind eyes,
On unattractive habits,
And make excuses for ourselves,
Or run like frightened rabbits,
When faced with certain frailties,
Or faults we don't want mentioned,
For after all we're not the ones,
Who sorely need correction.
It isn't hard to see the faults,
Of brothers and of sisters,
But seeing faults when they're our own,
Can burn until it blisters.
Into the buoyant blue of a summer sky
I throw my fortune and my hopes.
With wings and wonder I survey
the world above and need some time
up there before descending back to earth.
Advancing throttle up I climb, rocket
like and plumb, to check the heights
of clouds and skill, rolling left, then
right as in a dance, light
with release from gravity.
Before my plane escapes my vision, too, I guide
it over a graceful arch, until fast approaching
ground is all I see, and while succumbing
to the appetite of earth for things detached,
roll again and again in defiance, cutting
facets from the burnished blue.
Pushing hard to inverted flight, I see things
from a different point of view. Pressure
on the stick reminds me that up is down, and
I must concentrate to follow a horizontal path.
The Extra was made for this, I tell myself,
and brace for more.
Throwing sticks to the corner I force a snap. In a burst
of energy my wings become a blur. Like a wayward
child nose and tail go off track and need correction.
The stress on joints and structure is immense, yet
my plane obeys with no complaint, rebelling
only at my command to return wings level.
Like a metronome ticking over the rhythmic pounding
of my heart I count my way through a hammerhead:
“Throttle up and push, and, wait, and… release!
1 and 2 and roll and roll, and
1 and 2 and throttle back… rudder!”
The plane pauses in mid-air – a sentry in the sky - then pivots
on a point. Opposite aileron keeps me in a geometric plane,
and earthward bound once more I resume the beat:
“1 and 2 and roll: to canopy, and belly!
1 and 2 and push!”
The lines and arcs I draw through weather fair and foul
are my signature, the salient points of aerobatic discourse,
a test of nerves and steel, the embrace of fear.
Breaking through that wall, I emerge
free to explore the boundaries of my craft.
I must look beyond the attitude of pitch, roll and yaw
to see the art that I’m creating there
from the power and pull of wings through air.
Holding a precise line against the force
of Indiana winds or the vagaries of a Midwest storm,
with sunburned lips, lack of sleep or
a thousand other faults...
ah, there is the rub.
It is no easy thing, and still I try
to reach perfection, to control the direction
I will fly in that endless summer sky.
(09/15/11)
I have so many faults, I know it’s true
I’m trying to correct them, but it’s hard to do.
My faults have become goals that I must achieve
By doing this, they won’t be seen.
I’ll turn off the television and at my computer I’ll sit
My wife sees me and she catches a fit.
She says that if I could - I’d be on the computer 24/7
And that’s not the way that I’ll get to heaven.
She says it’s an obsession, and I say it’s a passion
And my daughter tells me it’s not in fashion.
My daughter tells me “ dad- you’re up in your years”
And the loss of the other eye, I do fear.
My grandson calls me “ one eyed jack”
And against me the cards are stacked.
Mom and granny are ganging up on you
And there is nothing that I can do.
They’ll tell me to keep quiet or go to another room
So my fight ends real soon.
For a seven year old , he has wisdom beyond his years
And both women against me he does have fears.
My daughter is getting me a laptop with more memory
Which I think will make it easier for me.
I could hide in the bathroom and continue to write
And I’ll be out of her sight.
( ha-ha - I can’t wait) p.s. -this is my 600th poem YAH
I did something this week I should love and take joy in doing
That left me broken questioning myself as a person
Failing miserably it made me face my limitations head on
And I was found wanting in so many department's
I reverted to type my dark side that no 1 likes
To be around because I spoil the fun of other's
Who only came for the love of the game
It's such a shame I can't enjoy the taking part
More than cursing and casting aspersions
On everything within my control I failed to master
My temper is my sticking plaster that covers up my inability
My aptitude lacked
And that's a fact
Back in the day till today
If I am honest, the faults I see in others is a true reflection of me...
Oh Lord, help me to recognize my own hypocrisy.
Sometimes it's easy to point at others and see all the bad that is...
But we must be loving and forgiving because we are one of His.
I have plenty of faults that are plain for all to see...
And all I can say is be patient and forgiving of me.
I am a work in progress and there are still a lot of loose ends...
A lot of rough miles and a lot of sins.
We can't give up because there is a long way to go...
And I am still discovering faults I didn't even know.
TK<