Best Have Words Poems
I am on poetry confinement
I can’t go here or there
I am chained to poetry
I only have words to eat
Set me free poetry
I only have time to rhyme left
I am on poetry row
I am getting the poetry chair
I leave my muse to you
Categories:
have words, prison,
Form:
Free verse
We all have voices
They are strong and loud
We can use them to start
Landslides and earthquakes
We can also calm the storm
Take that roar and turn it into
A gentle hum
We all have words
And it's time that we use them
But before we can do that
We must change the way we speak
We must change the way we look at things
Because the words we use now are not correct
The words we use now are full of hate
The words we use weren't acceptable
Years ago so why are they now?
Why is acceptable to be using slurs against me?
Why is it acceptable to call me something
That your mother would consider vulgar?
When you speak
Can you still taste the soap
That she would wash your mouth out with?
Does it burn your tongue each time
The words escape your lips?
Or do you feel nothing at all?
Have your dirty words
Consumed you enough
That no matter how much soap is used
They will never be clean?
Have they stained your vocal chords
So much to a point
That you can only speak
In profanities and racial slurs?
Because that's all I can hear
They slap me in the face
Each time you speak
I remember what you said
To that disabled black man crossing the street
I remember what you said
To the lesbian couple
When they kissed each other in front of us
I remember what you said to the single Latino woman
Caring for her 5 children
I remember what you said when I told you I wasn't straight
I remember everything you said
And I always say
We all have words
And it's time that we use them
But only if we can calm the storm
And turn the endless hate
Into unconditional love
Categories:
have words, anti bullying, slam,
Form:
Free verse
I want to live
Not to focus on the end
Or on ENDING it
Not to see what’s wrong but right
Try to see beyond darkness to light
I want to try to dry my tears
To think of the coming years
To make a mark
To be strong
Not give up the fight
I want to live
And even when
I wish for death
There is that voice
That whispers to go on
To survive
To leave something behind
Death will come
Soon enough
In his own time
He will come and call
And take my hand
But till that time
I don’t want to flirt with him
Or be consumed with thoughts
Of joining him too soon
In a bonding embrace
No….I want to live!
I want to laugh
I want to dance
To sing
To write my little heart out
I want to love
I want to make love
With a deluge of passion
That bathes the universe in light
A glowing, pulsating star of the night,
I want to display...every hue of desire
Matching…NO…outdoing the kaleidoscope light show
Of the Aurora Borealis
YES….I want to FEEL
EVERY SENSATION
I want to experience
Ecstasy
Exhilaration
Elation
Ebullience supreme
Excitement galore
What’s more
I want to taste
On my lips
The saltiness of my own tears
Tears of joy
Of sated desire, but also
Tears of pain
Yes, even pain needs to visit
The home of my heart
For she makes JOY more precious
Happiness more REAL
For joy and pain are siblings
In the family of feelings
They visit at different times
I accept each call
Each visit
Though unexpected
I will act the host
And try my best
To focus on each visitor
And converse with my heart
And understand with my mind
The reason why
And THEN… I’ll determine
To go on….
I NEED to go on……
To give and not expect a return
To lavish and ravish
With all I have
With every minute particle of me
TO LOVE….
To love…
Myself
For I need my own acceptance
I crave my own praise
I desire my own kindness
I must train myself to see
My own beauty to believe
I have something to share
I have words to gift
Thoughts that could light up the world
And if not the world
To light up a face
Oh, what grace!!!
I want to live
This moment
NOW
For the fabric of this garment
Is sewn with the thread
Of
E T E R N I T Y
Yes, I want to live...
And I will...
I WILL
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
have words, hope, how i feel,
Form:
Carpe Diem
I used to think poetry was about expression
(but some it seems would rather make it a competition)
I used to think beautiful words were meant to encourage growth,
not be used as a pedestal for your ego.
But hey What do I know?
You're the Master of the Pen
in whom we all adore.
Your advice is what we savor
... please tell us more!
But then again Maybe you shouldn't And just listen for a minute
Take a step back and breathe Don't abuse the gift you've been given
You ought to delight in the fact that you are NOTHING (as am I)
Because everything we write, and dream, is nothing but a gift passing by
They don't come because of what you did They come because they come
It's nothing glamorous Nothing special It's like the rising of the sun
Each circuit is a blessing Out of our control Whether we like it or not
So here's what I have to say to the friend we all know Mr. Big Shot
You may be Brilliant with a capital B,
have words that sing like a friggin' symphony,
but have you checked the pulse of your humility?
Is it still beating? Still beating?
Or is it left in the corner bleeding
from your Excalibur Pride.
Yeah, you may be the next Emily Dickinson,
or Edgar Allan Poe.
Have verses that make the minstrels weep,
and thoughts so mesmerizing So deep
But if your soul ain't pouring on the page -
if you write for reasons that are shallow -
on your Magnum Opus I'd rather turn the page!
(yes, it really happened! I rhymed 'page' with 'page'
Shakespeare I know Must be rolling in his grave!)
To tell the truth I'd rather turn my attention to the simple;
to the ones who leave those subtle ripples
on my heart, and on my mind.
Whose treasured presence are so personal,
it peaks on the edge of the divine.
So no
I'd really rather not dedicate my time
to your perfect metrical rhymes -
to your Magnifico Metaphors,
your Awesome Alliteration,
your Verdant Vocabulary
so lush that it's scary!
Your whoop-di-do-look-what-I-can-do
I'm so clever How 'bout you?
If your heart is full of Me, Myself and I
To your poetry
... I'd rather say goodbye!
Categories:
have words, anger, angst, feelings, how
Form:
Verse
Sometimes I think the way we view the world is a little antiquarian
for instance we have words to label everyone…from Capricorn to Sagittarian…
Take Deborah and I…we don’t eat meat…we are proudly vegetarian
though occasionally we will eat fish…which makes us pescatarian.
and since we’ve been known to eat a burger…we are most assuredly hypocritarian.
however we do not care what you eat…because we’re not authoritarian.
And though we believe in eating food that is predominantly agrarian
we know it doesn’t matter what you eat…if you are humanitarian.
It doesn’t matter if you are straight or gay…black, white or Hungarian.
If you’re Democrat, Republican, Independent or Libertarian.
It doesn’t matter…if you’re Catholic, Muslim or Sectarian
If you’re a doctor, or a lawyer…a dentist…a Veterinarian…
It doesn’t matter the type of music you like…rap, pop or opera that’s Wagnerian
or how you like your donut cream…whipped…butter…or Bavarian.
I think it’s time to apologize and end this poem
for I have shamefully become aware…
I can’t remember where I was going with it…
and, I imagine you…no longer care.
But let me end with these two hopes…
that you are not a strict grammarian…
and that we all may someday live…
in a world…
egalitarian.
Categories:
have words, humor,
Form:
Verse
Sow 2 Reap
Why do we suffer in this way,
a lot of religions have words to say,
As ye sow so shall ye reap,
what if you up an die tuite suite,
Karma will get you aye...
Don Johnson
The world is suffering more madness in the name of religion,
the one God wants none of it.
Maybe hell is here when Karma comes into bat..
. I too have lost many people to the Reaper, My Sue in April.
But the Grub becomes the Butterfly,
the Spirit is you when it flys,
a change of habit, new disguise,
adventure time Tom-Tit ...
Categories:
have words, adventure,
Form:
Ballade
I usually have words,
Words to say.
I usually can get things out when I pray.
I usually can make a joke and light up a room
But all I can say right now is that you left this world to soon.
You lit up my life in ways only God can understand
You were an angel, not mere human.
You always helped others when no one else cared
You always made yourself available when no one else was there.
When you sang and played guitar with me,
You looked so happy and free.
When I was scared and needed an ear,
You went out of your way to truly hear.
Many listen but most don’t hear
That was a gift, my dear.
I am thankful and honored you shared things with me
I got to hear what kept you in captivity.
Losing you is like losing a piece of my heart
I don’t even know where to start.
I wish I could have taken all your pain away
I am thankful that you let me lead when life was gray.
I miss you so much and it’s an ache in my soul
I just need you to know, I loved you so
Thank you for all you did for me
All the nights you listened to me go on endlessly
Thank you for the kindness you bestowed on me
You helped me see a lot of things that I had to learn to let be
I wish I could go back in time
I keep playing every conversation in my mind
I wish I could have done more
But for now I have to close that door
Rest in peace my precious friend
I believe in my heart we will meet again
Things will not be the same
And I am sure many want to take the blame
But you touched more people than you know
And I pray God told you that at heaven’s door
You were one of my best friends
And I will cherish you until the end
You were one of my best friends
And I will cherish you until the end.
By: Sabina Nicole
To my dearest friend I will miss you so much
Categories:
have words, death,
Form:
Rhyme
in my life-
some have tried to murder my spirit-
to assassinate my soul
with their single-mindfulness
nincompoops mean and nasty
torture brutal massacres relentless
running home for love
mothers arms
and kisses
from childhood to a young woman
I have found my ink
and I send poems wide and far
my soul bleeding
my crime for those with tunnel vision
I am part Ojibway-
in a world ruled by white
always different but not in poetry
except for some-
who come to kill my words
slaughter my poetic soul
murder what I love
nincompoops mean and nasty
sometimes I am befuddled
I stumble
crumble
crumple
puzzle
words are weapons
leaving forever deep scars
my house may be weather-stained
my garden ravaged
but the wheels of time have rolled
now, I have a strength unfathomable
a pride no one can kill
or slaughter
those who have words of misery
stay in your tunnels of hate
with your tunnel-vision
for I am an Ojibway girl proud
with flowing hair like a streaming river
and poetic spiritual soul
and the grandfather spirits in the sky
will ever and forever be my protectors
and I fly with eagles . . .
_______________________
January 28, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/words are weapons
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1324-456-28
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Murder in the Tunnel
sponsor, Kai Michael Newmann, Judged 02/12/2021
Fourth Place
Categories:
have words, murder,
Form:
Free verse
I love the birds the trees I love the things
they say to me the sky's so pretty always
true always clear the color oh so blue
the water so clear the sound sparkles the
mullets and tropical fish swim deep in the
ocean every sea every lake has something to
say this is nature's way the sun kiss us
with it's energy to protect us and give us
our warm glow the moon dance in the distant's
around the stars to guide us through the
night the earth is always moving taking on
new forms as our animals get to know life
and try to survive what we have words cannot
describe then man walks the earth learning
growing teaching showing all this put
together as we bloom and stay in tune with
nature's way.
Copyright@July2005
Patricia Jaye
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Categories:
have words, natureearth, love,
Form:
I’m in a mental drought
My mind is empty, my hearts beating
No! Happiest in my soul
My feet sore, no place to go;
I’m happiest when I’m convergent
Penning a verse, whispering a phrase
Yet the poet’s hands are tied
As his eyes witness humanities lies
And all the horrid host invisible as ghost
Daily meals water and toast
I have no words
No one wants to hear
How do I write?
The Poet's Hands Are Tied
With worn hands arthritic hands
Blurred visions can’t see the keyboard
I have no words
No one wants to hear
The Poet's Hands Are Tied
When my muse is sleep
When no one keeps
Pays attention to me
To me attention flees
I have words
No one wants to see
I have voices inside of me
How can it be a poet?
Whom, you know yet I don’t know it
How do I write?
The Poet's Hands Are Tied
As my censorship
Has been relinquish
Penning a verse, whispering a phrase
Yet the poet’s hands are tied
As his eyes witness humanities lies
And all the horrid host invisible as ghost
Daily meals water and toast
I have no words
No one wants to hear
How do I write?
The Poet's Hands Are Tied
How do I write?
Again I say as Poet's Hands Are Tied
The Poet's Hands Are Tied
6/2/2021,
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Placement in Contest 1st Place
For The Poet's Hands Are Tied Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Categories:
have words, absence, analogy, angst, anxiety,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The night is questionable, perhaps I am
Why don't it all go away for tonight to stay?
I have exhausting hours without the end
I have words without a voice to say
Because I want to travel tonight
I want it all to go and come away somehow
I want to be the center of light
I want to be here for tomorrow's yesterday now
I need to be clear that I'm unclear
I need to see what my eyes wouldn't otherwise
I need to be younger than a peer
I need a concealable truth in an inconceivable lie
I want to be free when I'm bounded
I want to be sound amongst the impounded
I want to hear music without movie
I want to watch movies and never be
I want to love without feelings
I want to be full without eating
I want to taste without biting down
I want to enjoy silence with a sound
I want to say things without being heard
I want to know things and be a nerd
I want to let go by pulling strong
I want to be alive without being born
I want to think without thoughts
I don't want to commit but I want to be caught
I want to tell you yes when you say no
I am hot when I am freaking cold
I want to fall down when standing tall
I want to ignore my loving mother's phone call
I want to be upset when I'm genuinely happy
I want a dysfunctional, disloyal, disapproval memory
I want to be impeccable to screw everyone up
I want to be incapable to be brimming proud
I want to die in all manner of disgrace
I want to be distinguished as a man without taste
I want to tell the world that I exist
And for everyone to be like me... they can only wish
I just want to say
Why do you want to be what you can only be?
Do you think a correct path is okay?
Do you think an incorrect path is a fated story?
I'm questioning the night now... I am
Because its dusk in my dawning relay
I am exhausting a helpless mind to an end
If I forget tonight's tomorrow, can I remember tomorrow's yesterday now so as to forget tonight's tomorrow for tomorrow's yesterday.
Categories:
have words, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Right now
I have words
flowing from my veins,
but what if it stops?
That can never happen
all I have to do
is slice another one open,
somewhere to dip my quill,
another way to release
the torrent,
the flows,
the waves
of emotion that crash within me.
To eat away at the walls
that they use to keep the likes of me out,
but that can never happen
I go where I want,
the more unwelcome,
the more I'll be there,
slowly pounding,
eroding,
wearing down
the barricades they set
to keep out the malcontents,
the undesirable,
the vile,
the evil.
Yes tis I
the one no one would welcome
howling in the back,
scratching at the window,
knocking at your door,
pounding on your chest.
I have been here
forever....
waiting....
slinking....
perched on your windowsill,
sitting just out of sight,
'til the right moment.
That's how I do,
that one second
can change your life,
and make mine last so much longer,
every little taste extends my being,
brings me closer to my next target.
As long as fear exists
there will be me....
Categories:
have words, angst, death, depression, life,
Form:
Free verse
It's spring
Birds sing
I hear
Their cheer
Tweet tweet
How sweet
Day one
What fun!
Day two
Doves coo
Day three
What glee
Day four
Crows caw
Day five
Survive
Day six
Wild chicks
Cock crows
Ire grows
Loud quail
Nerves frail
All week
Gulls shriek
Cheep cheep
No sleep
Mad tit
That's it!
Have words
With birds
Spring’s past
At last
No din;
Lie in!
24.10.20
Completely Your Choice (32)Any Form Any Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Categories:
have words, bird, spring,
Form:
Footle
Oh,
inside of
me dwells a
voice I call Muse.
Mostly just whispers
but, he never ever leaves me
I have a great affection for Muse
and my feelings are mixed up with his.
Sometimes, Muse I wish for total solitude
could you lower your piercing, demands please.
In the loudest roar, Muse insists that I listen
he does not care if I am sleeping in bed
or I am going for a sweet nature walk
that voice is thunderous and loud.
Stop dearest and write a poem
for this is so important
your pen must drip
we have words to
share in ink
now.
______________________________
January 3, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/Muse Insists
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1100-727-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the Standard contest, My Loudest Feelings
sponsor, Caren Krutsinger, Judge 01/2019
First Place
Submitted into the contest, POEM ON POETRY MUSE
sponsor, Beata Agustin
Categories:
have words, muse,
Form:
Free verse
Are we but dancers on an unlit stage
Disclosing secrets hidden in the angst of now
Revealing the ups and downs of then.
Singing in the choir of the off key
Whistling past punctuations grave yard.
Our words a chant to taunt the demons
Remind them that we are still here
That we have words and are not afraid to use them.
Do we not hide behind, and within
Each metaphoric medley of madness
Bare the essence of an eager soul
In the nakedness of our ramblings?
Children clamoring for attention
Making mud pies, walking through puddles,
Bravely turning off the night light
Yet still afraid of the dark.
But for myself, I warn you, I am here
Within the words I blend together
A guileless garment maker
Obsessed by the texture of the threads
Stitching errant words together
Into this patchwork that is me.
For I am here, peeking from within the fabric,
Modeling each moment on an unlit stage.
Categories:
have words, allegory, life, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse