Best Gritting Poems
I laugh out loud
every time I hear a politician say,
that the best way to enrich a black person's life,
is to give them a job
Give them some work to do
Labor is the way out of poverty ---
are you kidding me!
They got the nerve,
telling a black person in America
they need to work
Put the shoulder to the grinding wheel,
get to know the sweaty brow feel
Getting employed will solve most of
black people's problems, politicians say
Hard work will bring an honest dollar our way
But I got a problem
with that four-letter word: work
I am bold enough to speak for my people
on this urgent matter
Telling us we need to work some more,
in order for things to get better for us
No! We worked long enough
Four hundred years is a long enough time, don't you think
We been working ever since
we got off those slave ships that didn't sink
We worked hard
at keeping our eyes and voices low
We worked hard
at pretending that we're slow
We worked even harder
at grinning and gritting our teeth
But we worked the hardest
at not getting lynched on a tree
Listen to me:
This is the children of slaves reality,
the living in America experience
of feeling the societal lash daily
Of being looked down on,
of being spurned and frowned upon
Politicians say they helped us all they could,
that entitlements didn't do no good
And only work can get us to where we need to be ...
sounds a lot like old-time slavery to me
No! We worked long enough
Four hundred years is a long enough time, I would think
We been working ever since
we got off those slave ships that didn't sink
We worked hard
at not getting pecked to death by Jim Crow
We worked hard
at trying to survive under the poverty line below
We worked even harder
at not telling the oppressor everything we know
But we worked the hardest
at letting our unchained KKKourage show
Yes! We worked long enough ...
now it's time for us to rest
Will you pay us back for that?
Categories:
gritting, slavery, society, truth, work,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Oh mighty dingo I see you still crawl.
Long ago broken hearted and yet you still bawl.
Tears down both cheeks, is it your poor little peetie?
My heart aches for you, my dear little sweetie.
Still gritting your teeth while stuck in a clinch.
If your throne’s getting cold, then you might as well pinch.
You slither around with you childish boring prattle.
You’re still stuck in our creek, without either paddle.
Categories:
gritting, crush,
Form:
Rhyme
So I found my decipher placed
on a site on cyberspace
with my name replaced
by a fake disgrace
the rhyme I’d written
where I hadn’t been submitting
now get ready for teeth gritting
yours too has seen a submission
Listen Soupers were all in the loop
cus I found poems I read on Soup
duplicated by this douchey duke
you should see this looters puke
Plagiarist profiles are mine to devour
but this could be a website conflict
their site thinks it has poetry power
been contacted still my poem sits
Ettahoustine this fraudsters name
you’ll find your write just the same
A call for arms or should I say pens
link below have a look my friends
Without a doubt undoubtedly
your own rhyme you’re about to read
a theft and crime so sad to see
copy and paste link Powerpoetry
https://www.powerpoetry.org/poet/ettahaustine/poems
(all poems have now been removed)
ONE SMALL WRITE FOR SOUP
ONE GIANT PUT RIGHT FOR SOUPKIND
POTD 18/08/2019
Categories:
gritting, anger,
Form:
Rhyme
Hidden though unsought
Ran from myself
Still got caught.
Mind, Body, Soul wrought.
Vengeance no longer mine
And yet I insist to ungently reside
Within the "desperate to love or to be" walls of my own heart.
Most continue to disrespect my house
Yes, I live in my heart
I refuse stubbornly to give in or give up
Forcing my belligerent mouth to remain shut.
Gritting my teeth praying to abstain running away.
The displeasing words that knock on the back of the smile; forced
With an impatient desire to allow angry words to spill out, onto the floor, into their eyes until they can't see out.
I will still love them all-despite my incessant desire for it to cease
If only "just barely" were enough.
It feels like that's all they're willing to gift me.
Tolerated!?
I've given what I felt I was given to hold, multiplied by more.
Alone is so cold even with 10 winter coats on.
Fortuna Audaces Iuvat
Trying to remain strong-strong.
My whirling mind assaults the clock that won't stop
Possibly because I feel as I'm perceived. Intuitively.
Not just due to self-definition
Expected only to lie, a true story's falsity
Never believed causing my heart's soul to exude profusely.
It's how it's always been-their denial tastes like reprieve
They just tolerate me, my song on repeat?
"Why can't I feel like I belong?"
I want their truest heart minus their pity.
Categories:
gritting, absence, abuse, anger, anxiety,
Form:
Metrical Tale
"A child, more than all other gifts
That earth can offer to declining man,
Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts."
W. Wordsworth
I am your grandmother.
I spent 24 years making
parenting mistakes, so I think
I'm pretty well trained now,
pretty worn down, open-minded
and accepting.
I think we'll be good friends.
At sixteen, your mother
said she was having a baby
and held up to me the blue pastic
device that tested her urine stream
like when she held up the blue ribbon
she won in kindergarten for the best
easter bunny nest made from marshmallows
and dyed yellow coconut.
Then she threw the blue device out
into the space between us on the bed,
like it was the best card in her deck,
her ace in the hole.
Your father waited in the other room
sitting in the thick silence,
afraid to breathe and miss
my response.
You and your mother did all the work,
but I was there at your birth,
Standing alongside, coaching your
mother to good contractions until
I was exhausted from gritting my
teeth and pushing too.
And your dad was there, too,
but closer to the business end
so he could be the first to know the sex.
An unsolicited psychic had told us
you would be a girl,
and when your dad was told,
he sulked all day
like it was a conspiracy
between the women to produce
only other woman.
He wanted another guy,
someone to give the men the edge,
a male child.
When your mother's body could
keep you from the world no longer,
your head appeared, eyes tightly
shut and a pout on your lips.
Your dad was watching closely,
the shoulder, the belly and then
his arms flew up in the air
like he'd made the touchdown
and he cried, "It's a Boy,
I told you, I told you,"
like he and I had placed a bet.
But then he saw how much
I could love the boy child.
I'm a pretty good grandmother,
and I think we'll be good friends.
Categories:
gritting, family, hope, life, dad,
Form:
Narrative
He greets the rising sun with a puff of black smoke,
Gritting his teeth against the cold and sending up prayers of hope.
On this tractor he sits all day,
Never to stop unless something were to break.
Swinging the auger out to signal the tank is full,
Bank out comes up full speed and tries not to drop one hull.
All day long this is the scene,
So perfectly timed and almost serene.
The sun starts to set,
But they continue to go, for they’re not done yet.
The painted colors of the sky,
So peaceful and stunning in his eyes.
With darkness starting to settle in and cover,
The rice dust will slowly start to hover.
He turns on the lights and continues his rows,
For until the harvest is finished, he will never slow.
Categories:
gritting, on work and working,
Form:
Verse
Dawn comes larking through the trees
And heaven drips in fiery gold
Praise comes winging on bended knees
New mercies refresh my soul
From gritting sand faith finds its pearl
From wounded hands man's guilt is healed
Walk with me where winds now swirl
Behold the joy that daylight has revealed.
Sorrow silently melts away with night
Joy cometh in the morning full and bright
Every leaf drips jewels in love's light
Dawn comes golden and blessed is my sight
***
Here am I to embrace you, tongue wet,
Dew drenched; sweet flows this silent rivulet
Categories:
gritting, faith, inspirational, nature
Form:
Verse
We were strapped in ready for take-off,
the engines churning all around us.
We'd longed for this moment,
but when it came we were scared rigid,
wondering if we'd survive.
"Countdown to take-off!" the captain roared.
Gritting our teeth we made ready.
pushed hard into our seatbacks with stomachs
turning cartwheels we were off at last!
bright lights and bogus noises
surging from under the blankets.
There was a wobble and a whistle,
the signals to burst out at warp speed.
Our bodies felt the rush, the rumble
and finally the jolt of the touch down.
"Look out the peephole! We're on the moon!"
the captain cried. And sure enough, we weren't
in Kansas anymore. The moonscape was
strangely full of familiar looking objects,
Grandma's afghan flowing like a river,
what looked like the pillows
from Jimmy's bed, crumpled like space debris,
and my school project, a volcano
puffing out baking powder.
Yep, this was the moon alright.
"Imaginations still intact," Jimmy yelled,
"but how are we gonna get home?"
Categories:
gritting, children,
Form:
Verse
One minute left on the clock
Four points down, championship at stake
Third down, five yards from the goal
Hefty defensive linemen gritting teeth
eager
anxious
Do you run the ball?
or pass?
Quarterback fakes a hand-off
Linemen not fooled, scatter to block receivers
Quarterback sneak wins the game!
*For the "Pass" contest. Probably only football fans will get this one.
Categories:
gritting, sports
Form:
Free verse
A talk with the devil
One night while watching television
I suddenly fell asleep
And when I open my eyes
This stranger I did meet
A wild looking creature,
Bolder then I had seen
Somebody shake me and
Tell me this is a dream.
I did not want to be here,
This is a mistake
Wake me; shake me,
Before it is too late.
The creature began to laugh,
As he laughs so hard;
You are down here to stay
So said the Lord.
You had your chance
To live a Christian life
But you didn't count on
Taking this deep sleep tonight.
Listen careful my child,
Don’t you hear the bells?
You missed the streets of gold
And ended up in hell
I started to scream and plead to God;
He never heard me as
I stood there in the dark.
People was crying and gritting
Their teeth; my night gown caught on fire
From the intensity of the heat
I yell out with pain saying
Forgive me, this is a mistake
I realize it was the devil when he said;
Take your place I appointed
You in the lake.
All while you live,
I stayed hard on your back
You down here with me
And there is no looking back
I showed you things
That drew you from God
Not giving you a chance
To receive him in your heart
Oh foolish one, how foolish could you be
I did not want you in heaven,
But down here with me.
You did not have to come here,
Or allow yourself to be fool
I do what I want,
I got nothing to lose.
I know how heaven look,
But I did not care
I want all of God’s people for myself
Maybe you should have loved
God without a doubt
The day I got unruly up there,
He simply put me out.
.I got all kind down here
With me, young and old
I am out to kill and
Destroy all of God’s souls.
As I talked with the devil
My heart did ache
My head hung in shame
Because I knew it was too late
I scream loud as I could
To the top of my voice
Suddenly I open my eyes
And grabbed for my heart.
I remember everything
I had seen that night
I had no time to waste,
To get my soul right.
I got one more chance
To try to save my soul
I got one more chance
To walk the streets of gold.
You may say that this is a poem,
And you are right
But what if you fall asleep
And go there one night?
Do whatever it takes
To live the holy way
Time waits for no one,
It must be today.
Categories:
gritting, religion, god, me, heart,
Form:
Narrative
She was a daring escape artist,
secret agent in her own maniacally
complicit central intelligence gravitas,
gritting darkly ravaged plug-in gray matter
weapon of choice - unsystematic wordy tumult
seducing unhinged recondite translations
Categories:
gritting, allegory, emotions, hyperbole, identity,
Form:
Free verse
I used to believe in helping those
Who can’t help themselves
Now it seems that it is me
who is need of help of someone else
being a wheelchair man I believed to be included into society
not to be hidden away and kept silent like it’s forbidden
to be a human too and not in some library
where they study defects of the anatomy
where the physically challenged will be studied under a canopy
of ignorance
I enjoyed being counted as a pioneer
By breaking the institutional curse of being dependant
On a social grant
by being independent I was hell bent
I believe my energy is well spent
Providing for my wife and daughters
Used to be a piece of a cake
Now I’m under pressure gritting my teeth about to break
I fade away in silence because
Being a wheelchair man is not for the faint at heart...
Categories:
gritting, change, character, deep, depression,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I’m not sure
I have the strength anymore
To be discovered
Stepping into the cold black lake of February
Clopping to work in frozen slop
Snow snarling at my ankles
Car coughing
Windshield gritting its white teeth
I wear a body double of fur curved
Like a polar beast on my back
Then the Voice of the Turtle whispers…
And sprinklers spritz in a mist of sunrise
And rows of palm trees unfold as a breezy outfield fence
Blue sky a homerun boundary
Free to swing away you can’t miss
Buckets of baseballs flung to the green sea
Leather-gloved squids
Eight kids per position
Waiting their ground balls and pop flies
Legend to rookie 60 feet and 6 inches from the big show
Chin skimmed and bum chapped with red dirt
Tip of hat flattened to home plate
Get up swing back at that
Unfamiliar crack of doubt
Deep from winter inside you.
A hot sun is a bird perched on the bill of your cap
#10 Numi eternal rookie in us all
Spread your wings and fly to Detroit
The Old English D forever on your chest.
Categories:
gritting, baseball, blessing, encouraging, eulogy,
Form:
Free verse
They say
way back we became
*****sapiens
They say
we evolved slowly
from ape to man
This unsettling news was force fed to me
through public education shock therapy
Anthropological flashback
has me gritting my teeth
As an adult, got strapped into a metal chair
for being non-conformist,
having old-time radical views
They be giving me cave man torture
using modern tools
in the year 1982
Got so much electrical current
coursing through me,
I don’t rightly know
what’s science fiction or what’s reality
They’re gonna get my thinking standing upright
No more Neanderthal biblical thoughts
lumbering through my head
Anthropological flashback
has me scratching my fuzzy brow
How a monkey became human
has me wondering,
how come an ox didn’t become a cow
Wrong way logic
must be the God-spirit roaming free in me
Could it be evolution
ain’t nothing but a Stone Age Tarzan theory
Anthropological flashback
has got my ancestors under attack ...
I never read where Adam had a daddy,
who was a gorilla named King Kong
Or Eve having a mother who was a chimpanzee,
that just sounds so plain wrong
Looks like they got a lot of work to do
to successfully brainwash me
But I’ll trade you two bunches of bananas for a coconut,
if my mighty fine
uncle Joe Young comes swinging from a tree
Categories:
gritting, fun, humorous, religious, science,
Form:
Light Verse
sleeve of heart and head in hand,
blindly pacing, sight and sand.
faces lose all faith and will,
blurred and silent, always still.
one eyed man among the blind could tell the endless lie,
and all, shy god and insects, miss the falseness of his eye.
anchors weigh the state of mind,
imagination ties the bind.
see truth is rarely logical,
where as, sense and fiction rhyme.
due west, press on, leave east to mourn the plight,
of fading stars and last moonlight.
eyes open with the morning to see the sun ignite.
these days yearn for movement, move sloth from mind and sight.
activate the tools or comparison will pale,
despite your every effort, gritting tooth and biting nail.
path ahead is tomb for good intentions of the failed.
occupy your minds with thought or waste and wallow in the mess.
our home and hope will wither while you find what to assess.
for dormant minds, the truest dream, will always be no more or less.
Categories:
gritting, inspirational, life, philosophy, visionary,
Form: