Best Foolhardiness Poems
Deja Vu
Alas, we compose poetry to impress others with our brilliant
brains, hapless wit, sexy bodies, or holy sanctimony.
All foolhardiness if you think of it, and an exercise in utter, grandiose
egotistical folly!
Just be you, never hurt another poet here.
Because when you do, Deja Vu is coming for you next, my dear!
December 8, 2019
Following the stupefying sensation of my heart
I take a long and high flight
With the wings of self-deception.
Having some kind of foolhardiness,
I fly in search of green fields
Leaving behind the dreary desert
To sing sweet songs of life.
The warnings of my Prudence,
To stay with my other mates, go unheeded.
The green fields once
Where I yearn to reach
Turn into the burning flames
With deadly smoke
That chokes my throat
And darkens my vision.
And I, no more able to fly,
Fall into the lap of disillusionment.
Wings are fully burnt
And burnt I am from within.
Sobbing at the impulsiveness-my Achilles’ heel-
With a sigh, waiting for the last breath,
I close my eyes.
Pained am I with the waste of life,
Of dreams that lie like myriad shards,
Of hopes and love left far behind,
Taking flight on withered wings of
Unrequited expectations.
Sad am I that young roiling blood
Is stilled, silenced, with abandonment.
Where is the burning zeal and zest,
Brash bravado and youthfulness,
Life that thrives on - being alive?
We drink toasts to greatness, success, gain,
Do we empathize with those who fail?
Is what is taught is only that
Our goal by day, and that by night,
Is we've just got to beat the best?
Angered am I to read of death
Of youth who think life's race they have lost,
Laying great store by trivial
Pursuits whose conquest placed above
Life, and limb, and the self itself?
Oh, callow youth, oh innocent you!
A quagmire of treachery and deceit
Life is woefully all about.
You win some points, but lose some more-
With honour take it in your stride.
Carry on regardless with a smile,
Drink a toast to what'er be your lot.
Through wind and storm or sunny days
The days relentlessly zoom by
Always heralding happy cheer!
Blame not the foolhardiness of youth
For life cut short due to shattered dreams.
Blame lies squarely on the heads of
Patriarchs of a synthetic
Society of transferred hopes.
They start out in youth as marionettes,
often as their own puppeteers,
clasping unseen crossed sticks
with unseen wires attached,
sometimes getting twisted in their own strands.
Once people get past the adolescent plagues
unique to to them,
they find the way to tilt the guide -
pulling shoulders straighter
with their hidden puppet strings
as insecurities dissolve
and slowly, foolhardiness recedes.
Joining the throng of all the puppeteers,
some become
masters at their craft,
manipulating others,
while some prefer to
simply play the role of marionette.
But everyone at one time or another
works the strings. . .
When people learn the “secret”
embracing life and losing woodenness. . .
they grow to understand
it’s not obligatory ,
nor is it even wise,
always to make sure
the guiding, unseen threads remain
untangled.
Revised for the People poetry Contest of Richard Lamoureux
Do you wake up well jungle juggernaut?
If the forest wakes up well, it's to me egal ;
if the forest doesn't wake up well, it's to me egal;
if the tusker has woken up well, what else?
You that breathe with dexterity,
You that walk with dexterity.
Your foot print; fortress for the rodents.
Do you wake up well Elephant?
Mind not their foolhardiness,
they that see you in distance and propose:
come let hunt him with our stick.
Is the tamer of forest not bigger than that we say
let's hunt him with our cudgels?
Bull may be tethered, buffallo may be;
the king is yet uncrowned
that can tether the jungle juggernaut.
He pledged not his love
N more happy she couldn have been
For love is more than jus pledges..
Love is a breath of the unseen!
Days many, too many, flitted past..
Unmarked, uncelebrated, an unspoken of affair..
She walked the tormentous streets of Silence
So wistful an air, so proud and yet so fair!
Then came time to an algid still
Twas time come, to wade away
Thru waters untame, untimid n cold,
N all when there was so much left to say!
PARTED LIES THIER PATHS...
Two souls, caught unawares in the aphrodian web
The aroma locked up deep, deep, within..
Yearning. Yearning , n yet too proud to let out the ebb!
She could have looked back,
n CHOSEN TO THWART A BECKONIN FATE
But she! She walked the tormentous streets of silence..
N in cruel withering dignity, did but wait.
He yearned no more , but a smile,wistful n meek
A smile drunk of cupid's unsurpassable foolhardiness
Differences forgotten, hearts rent asuder..
Moments when murder was loneliness!
Pain did her wistfulness rule,
The smile melted into the parting
As roads drew on, uphill, ahead..
Memories.. All mem'ries that defy Time's calling!
Unsure of the wisdom of getting married that day,
the young woman stood in the garden
of her groom-to-be.
Rarely entirely confident of any big decisions,
she trembled underneath
her beautiful white sequinned wedding gown.
She pondered and pondered,
but anything bad that entered her mind
had barely any weight
compared with all the good of the man she loved!
Suddenly her gaze fell upon the rose bush.
Although it was early November,
one passionately red rose still bloomed there,
tall and poised – ready for romance!
As if by fate, a brilliantly red cardinal
alighted nearby the rose and cocked his tiny head at her
as if mocking her for her foolhardiness.
She recalled that seeing a cardinal meant good fortune,
Smiling then, she turned enthusiastically,
headed for wedded bliss.
Jan. 6, 2023
For Brian Strand's the 'SECOND CHANCE ' Poetry Contest
Purple spots buzz by
Chatter inside his head
The air is quivering and thick
- no rush
"Stretch out your tongue"
"why, give me seven reasons"
Blessed cogs
on the grandmother clock
a legacy from the age of the fathers
Every heartbeat, clock ticks on
Searching for connection
screaming mayhem in the hospital
Deep coma, these locks he's afraid of
Red stop sign ... foolhardiness
the smoke of zeal
sound exploding launches fireworks
Nothing could stop him
Perseverance, trying to map the unknown
Nuns in freshly ironed uniforms washing his face
he can't move a single muscle
Childhood memories, smell of warm sheets
When the forsythia produces buds
- maybe, his second chance
The ancient tree stood in the clearing
majestic in its full leafed beauty
its old branches reaching up to the sky
roots stretching deep down into the earth
what different things it had seen
during the time it had stood
witnessing many a battle
even a murder or two
the secrets it could tell
Of the foolhardiness of mankind
600 years it had stood sentry
over all it surveyed
now still majestic but slowly dying
it would take all it knew to the grave
contest:all about trees written 01/26/2011
Where it Leads
Chaotic arrangement of words
beaten with the mind
fall into place as tetris blocks
where it leads none may know
ready to organize a show
unveil the curtains
open the window, let the breeze
carry your blind mind to see
in darkness, light light dispersing
into heavy sounds, binds your attention
seek redemption, sheathe your skin
come on in and split the atom
fathom while the phantom haunts
a dream dreamt long ago
Does anyone wants to see death
creeping as a shadow ready to strike
bodies full of life dropping like flies
the Machine of War is hungry
go ahead, feed it, feel its mechanical wheels turning
longing for more, death is greedy in the hands
of men who desire to be consumed by the fire
of greed and consumption, who are we to make
the foolish assumption: "All will change in time"
A bomb ready to implode and traumatize
as the wise remain silent, the violent rush
waiting to crush the fools allowing themselves
to be used as tools
Steer me away from things to come
what's done is done, let me feel the sun
let me run from the sum of my mistakes
raise the stakes as the world around me breaks
Well then, middle finger to you too kind sir
don't worry, I shan't stir your harmony
by all means, go ahead, lay your head down
and sleep, oh, just don't wake up and all is fine
I shall toast with wine and have a laugh
as others whom 'loved' you whine at my foolhardiness
Take a metaphorical gun and blow away your mind
watch brain matter splatter on the walls, try to realize
that the way you analyze leads to the demise
of a sun that's about to rise and wake you up
to a reality you've always longed for deep within
That little music box playing the same tune in your mind
that itch under your skin that won't go away
when the promise of a new day may or may not lead you astray
It really isn't hard, in fact enlightenment awaits
those whom are ready to pass beyond the gates of their own mind
those whom don't mind the walls crumbling, ready to find
a different kind of bind with the human intellect
To all who have been faithful, and also those who’ve sinned,
everything is meaningless, it’s like chasing the wind!
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun;
seeing what I had achieved from all my hands had done.
My work became grievous, so much that I hated life;
realizing nothing was gained through all of my strife.
Goods and achievements come from envy of the neighbors.
Comforts and advancements are results from their labors.
Following every generation, there would be more.
Each succeeding will be displeased with the one before.
I’ve applied myself to understanding astuteness;
comprehending madness, as well as foolhardiness.
It’s better to admire with the eyes if you’re able,
than to covet something with want that’s insatiable.
I’d prefer to have one handful of tranquillity,
than to have two handfuls of ceaseless hostility.
There is a time for everything with humanity
under heaven, a season for each activity:
There’s a time to be born, and also one for dying.
A period for planting, then one for harvesting.
We have times for killing, as well as those for healing.
There are periods for tearing down, and rebuilding.
Those times for weeping also come with ones for laughing.
Sometimes we should scatter stones; in others gathering.
There are times we should embrace, and also refraining.
There’s periods for search, as well as relinquishing.
A time for keeping, accompanied with discarding.
We have times for tearing, and others for some mending.
There are periods for silence, and ones for speaking.
We include times for loving as well as for hating.
There’s a time for war and that for peace generating.
Memories of days splashed with rue,
Misgivings accumulate
Penalties accrue
For when thine judgements of foolhardiness come due
Tis then that you realize that your days here are but few
After touching the bottom rock with the sole of your shoe
Only then
Can you ascend
And set your compass
To true
To all who have been faithful, and also those who’ve sinned,
everything is meaningless; it’s like chasing the wind!
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun;
seeing what I had achieved from all my hands had done.
My work became grievous, so much that I hated life.
I realized nothing was gained through all of my strife.
Goods and achievements come from envy of the neighbors.
Comforts and advancements are results from their labors.
Following every generation, there would be more;
each succeeding will be displeased with the one before.
I’ve applied myself to understanding astuteness;
comprehending madness, as well as foolhardiness.
It’s better to admire with the eyes if you’re able,
than to covet something with want that’s insatiable.
I’d prefer to have one handful of tranquillity;
than to have two handfuls of ceaseless hostility.
Based on Ecclesiastes Chapter 3
5:02 AM Eastern Time Monday,
December 21
Location: 2 Highland Manor Drive
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
40.2562° N, 75.4638° W
Daylight 7:21 am – 4:39 pm
9 hours, 18 minutes
Mine circadian rhythm pulsates bright
imperceptible increments of daylight
increase fantasy fanciful heavenly flight
as I imagine myself
Icarus fearlessly gaining height
blindly heading into sunbeam light
strongly advised courtesy experts to travel
toward nearest star at night,
nevertheless unbeknownst plight
awaits me should foolhardiness
skew sense and sensibility right
off kilter yours truly blithely soars
reins of waxed wings held tight.
Plus I, a garden variety generic guy
aging long haired pencil neck geek
who presently wonders why,
rare astronomical phenomena
hashtagged great conjunction doth defy
illusory phenomena whereby,
two largest planets of solar system
Jupiter and Saturn separated in the sky
by and bye
6 arcminutes at their closest point,
which was the closest separation
between the two planets since 1623.
Inhabitants upon solar systems far and wide
will find Earthlings and aliens alike
their curiosity well supplied
out of world event
sponsored courtesy monopolists,
who govern Geico and Nationwide
renown companies insuring property on hillside
made of ticky tack
indirectly, fueled, impacted, and launched
segregation and next of kin apartheid.
Unfair injustice heaped mainly
upon persons of color
playing race card basic rights to win
i.e. those beautiful people
gifted with darker skin
think swarthy complexion.
Hence motive to join reparations committee
(no time to wait)
linkedin with Cherry Hill, New Jersey
Unitarian Fellowship albeit remotely
suddenly aware white privilege,
I (sheepishly admit) ashamedly state
an unspoken mandate
to be positive force and help negate
(at least when I feel better -
yours truly plagued with panic attack)
and help eradicate
white supremacists trumpeting hate.
“... betrayal begins with trust.” ~ Phish
Nothing is more hurtful than betrayal--
The traits of Cain, Delilah, Judas, Brutus;
In their darkest hours they all led astray
those they vowed to be loyal to and protect,
spawning events that were calamitous.
Trust—
It appears, there’s none anymore
Not here, not now and never ever was;
It’s an ancient fable, a myth
long tucked away in books
in sermons and scriptures
in mythology and fairytales,
Not a treasure rare and precious,
but a mere figment of our imagination;
Trust is a portal through which
a man can manipulates, lies and betrays,
A chimera of the fantasy world
like a mirage to the desert dwellers
a floating straw to a drowning man
a flickering light at the end of
a tunnel to a desperate soul.
Trust but thyself
and to thyself be true,
Yet indulge not in thine own conceit,
Mistrust no man without just cause
Nor be credulous without proof,
Stay neither far from reason
nor close to folly…
Trust is hard to find,
But when found, don’t let go!
~05/24/23
~Contest: Writing Challenge 'B' quote
~Sponsor: constance La France