Best High Poems
help mrs. muse is gone and my mind is shooting blanks
my friend called inspiration is trying to walk the plank
motivation just married mr lazy
and confidence started acting really crazy
cousin common sense is on vacation out of town
and aunt intelligence is nowhere to be found
uncle rational is at the casino gambling his life away
and my best friend happiness never wants to stay
my neighbor opportunity doesnt knock on my door anymore
and my girlfriend love is really just a whore
my partner pride is always full of himself
and sister sympathy is busy with someone else
grandpa wisdom is smart enough not to say a word
and grandma compassion is seen but never heard
the only friends that ever come to town
is anger and disgust and they always hang around
my high school sweat heart infatuation doesnt really call
and my childhood friend imagination doesnt exist at all
Their lives begin, that special day
Your hardest job, is on the way.
Walking and pacing, all night long
Knowing that one day, they’ll be strong.
Watching them crawl, then walk and run
Treasure each moment, share their fun.
They grow so fast, enjoy each day
For sometime soon, they’ll move away.
Years of school, sometimes they will drag
We’re filled with pride, we parents brag.
Teaching our kids, always be kind
Lasting friendships, many will find.
Do as I say, not as I do
We all have said, our parents too.
The truth comes out, don’t cheat or lie
Don’t try and skimp, to just get by.
Take the right path, we try to guide
Sometimes they don’t, we let it slide.
Knowing they must, find their own way
Life is tough, on track they must stay.
Bumps in the road, many will hit
We as parents, just have to sit.
Learn from mistakes, it takes its’ toll
Their independence, that’s our goal.
The hardest part, is yet to come
When high school years, are said and done.
We’ve done our jobs, as best we could
We must let go, or so we should.
Give them their wings, and let them fly
As we sit back, and often cry.
Turning the page, is hard to do
Wondering if, they listened to you.
Reach for the stars, follow your dreams
It takes time, forever it seems.
Your heart will break, can’t let it show
It’s so difficult, letting go.
Soaring
Free as a bird
No wings to restrain us
Blown gently on salmon pink clouds
Heaven!
01~11~15
Contest: An American Beauty – Andrea Dietrich
Visual 5: Balloons
Checked Using How many Syllables 2,4,6,8,2
~awarded 4th place~
Thank you, Mr. Rogers (yes, his real name!)
for rescuing me from teenage purgatory.
Perplexed teenager, lacking social lumen
pulled C's in English, D's in History -
my dreadful retrograde trajectory
projected no collegiate acumen,
in prom discussions, practically subhuman!
Then, your poetical geometry
and sleek Cartesian choreography
became my sailing ship, and I, its crewman.
Derivatives soon danced in arcs non-static.
Pythagorean proofs helped me progress,
vectors resolved problems that once would vex.
Your agile algebra of joy quadratic:
my new hypotenuse of happiness
helped me to find myself... I solved for x.
Written 13 March 2020
Love was in the air when he laid eyes on her.
Childhood; elementary and even high school with her.
Walking towards her, he greeted her.
Anxiety spiraled as he hugged her.
Conversation grew deeper as he sat with her.
Wanting to get closer because he was falling for her.
Another woman called pausing the time he was having with her.
Knowing he had to answer; he stepped away and spoke to her.
She stated that something wasn't quite right with her.
She said that her stomach had been bothering her.
Now he's thinking back if he came inside her.
Thinking if she lied to him about her tubes being tied within her.
Does he blame himself for listening to her?
Knowing right from wrong and yet he can't blame her.
Does he blame the devil for allowing him to be intimate with her?
Is he not a human that makes mistakes just like her?
Begging God to make a way for him and her.
Asking God to forgive him for committing the sin with her.
God said, "relax my son, you were only dreaming of her."
Soul progress
back field in motion
The guff
Chose, chose, live grow leave! GO!
Leapt from heaven's gold
Jump started into a human mold
White clapboard poverty with tiger lily blooms,
blueberry rake poverty woolen looms.
Riffs of Emerson, Whitman, Longfellow dawns,
mothers’ hazel eyes, father Davidesque form,
chosen to drive twixt a Jew and a screw.
Magnet of lunacy...
Tumbled like an agate into the stream of life
part of the dream lesson
scream lesson
Abuser of power, one who had once roared,
Eve shaped now, weak and mewling
between the weeds of woe.
Care taken by lovers torn.
Watched over by pedophile uncles.
Befriended by lewd Father of sons.
Adult child, searching amongst the Word
for the Word is God and GOD …
There are so many words
Root ripped scenes from beauty to horror
Shiksa* taunts seep in with the smell of borsch.
A pumpkinseed amongst the pricks of Brooklyn
A wild rose planted in the asphalt soil
Doo-wop ditty
Jew’s bop to a Dago harmony,
bagels, bialys and the French twisted strands
of great grandma’s hair.
Clipped, stripped of family shoved whole
into yet another new mold.
True believers, ah yes, fanatics all.
The struggle to survive whole healthy
dipped in, dripped in, a bath of acid and thorazine.
Polish priests pedal platitudes to the sisters of St. Joseph
behind the gilded glory of the Church.
Raped by trust and betrayed by lovers,
a rose married to a prickles thorn,
so empathy is gained, and a healer born.
Metal must be formed in a crucible of fire
A healer can not be born without tasting the pyre.
I started sucking my thumb until it looked like a plumb
Things didn't feel any better so I poured a glass of rum
Some will imagine I'm happy when they hear the tunes I hum
whisky me Dixie I am the crazy unbalanced one
Yes I hum like a drum and I pretend to be dumb
I prefer the shady ladies who stay out of the sun
You might want to hang out after all I can be fun
Others will try and warn you, you'd be better off to run
You think I'm simple dear Simon, my thoughts not so deep
I know it's easy to judge me by the company I keep
I'm hanging on by three threads, one step away from endless sleep
I can't get up high enough, the incline of my mind is too steep
I'm weathered and worn kinda broken and busted
Others thought they could help get my aptitude adjusted
Yet some things can't be fixed too many layers have rusted
Kind people have attempted to get me polished and dusted
Forget all that attention I just simply cussed it
I wander asphalt streets bopping to my lost boy beat
see the crooked dexterity of my wobbly bruised feet
Nothing satiates me what I hunger for I can't eat
the ghosts in my mind have occupied my seat
My demons are hidden beneath a white worn sheet!
Don't try and peek under, you won't like who you meet!
It was the last year of high school and there was a lack of beaux,
But then I got an invite. Whew, that was close!
So now the Prom was coming and I was going to go!
Mom gassed up for the city, headed out with me in tow,
Big stores all hunched together on a tall and scary street,
One dress along a rack with just repeat, repeat, repeat.
But Mom found a creation in an entirely different place,
Moulded tulle and satin, fairy dust and moonlit lace!
I thought she was kidding though the thing was just my size.
I was worried; fairy tales don't often turn out to be wise.
And the price tag is ridiculous! I said Mom take a look!
She plunked it down determinedly, tore a check out of the book.
That left a lot for me to do. My looks are commonplace.
New makeup and new lipstick; how about new face?
Silken shoes, a tiny purse, it's a lot of stress
Just trying to live up to this fantastic dress!
Rhinestone droplets dangle dangerous from my ear,
My long hair piled up high. How much taller I appear!
Prom night came...Poor Tommy! I was done up to impress.
My hair swept up, my makeup on, long earrings and the Dress!
He stood there in the doorway, uncertain in his tux,
Black tie, stiff shirt; this is getting all too much!
The corsage he held between us was carnations glowing red.
He looked up cautiously and ventured; "Is that you, Bo?" he said.
+Her Spirit Sublime+
She knelt in God's marble chapel, in her uniform.
A suit of deep,forest green with fresh white blouse
honoring God, her King.
So young, she bowed her shiny brunette head in reverence,
Hearing the robins sing, that teenage spring, singing
in angelic consonance.
Her prayerbook of black leather, gold-leaf edges and
ribboned marker of red,
Made her realize as she stroked it, that is was only by God
was she to be led.
The delicate scent of candles that burnt so bright!
The artwork of mosaiced windows, sunlit-hued made her
feel heavenly light.
Her crystal, beaded rosary which transformed,the white marbled
walls, into a supernatural rainbow divine.
Grateful, to be in a school, that this memory still sings in her memory, sweet,alive and utterly, sublime!
11-30-2020
10:30am PST
**Poem of the Day**
12/2/2020
Dedication~ to my high school and religious mentors, who taught
me who runs this world! Thank you.
How high the bar that makes a poet Real!
(He walks in mists, and shadows of himself)
To be a poet, is to burn with steel
Set short time in the forge, the lesser self!
He brands his heart with fiery words, set down
And burns his mind with thinking, ‘til it glows,
He hopes, of sonnets, his will be the Crown,
And hopes that all the brilliance of light, shows!
But, oftener, he writes a humble piece,
A few words cramped into a simple form,
But somehow, in his feelings, a release!
Yes, humble-bumble often is the norm.
And that high bar, he reaches seldom, and
Leaves barefoot footprints in the fruity sand.
2/20/2019
Whenever I walk inside I feel at home;
enraptured, from shelf to shelf I roam
till a book catches my eye
as I flitter by
smell sends me
high
rapidly
while senses comply
inner needs to satisfy,
like a bee that sips a honeycomb...
whenever I walk inside I feel at home.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest by Kai Michael Neumann
Sharp eyes
and sharper wings
with the speed and accuracy
perfection brings
when a falcon cuts the sky in half
My heart sings
12/12/2019
For Gregory Paul's Your Favorite Animal Poetry Contest
High tide
sadness billows
swells over me in waves
massive, silent, overwhelming
melancholy ocean engulfing me
flailing, drowning in emotion
or maybe I'm being
too dramatic
only-
It feels
that dramatic-
my universe slightly
out of orbit or alignment
something strangely out-of-kilter causing
all things to be thrown off their course
too much wind and pressure
in atmosphere
storms surge
Drifting
on swift currents
rudderless, out to sea
swept toward an isolated
island, far removed from humanity
pulling me farther and farther
from the reality
of what could be
wind-tossed
Landing
on shore, lonesome
building small raft of hope
shoving off at nightfall, to sleep
buoyantly, trusting by morning I'll be
somewhere else- maybe better or
not, but different than
here- can't be worse
I think...
It's OK
that you don't have much to say
Your words are kept on paper
For your eyes to savor
It doesn't matter that your best friends
Are Agatha Christie and Emily Dickinson
It's alright that the phone doesn't ring
With silly chatter over pointless things
Don't be concerned with the prom princess
With perfect skin who looks flawless
You are not one of the sheep that blends in
You are more alive in your own skin
Of books, and writing, and libraries
They can keep their ugly judgments and drunk parties
You don't need doctors and therapy
Because you prefer anonymity
To toxic high school hypocrisy
You put yourself before contests
To see which boy likes which girl the best
You like yourself for who you are
Proud to be unpopular
Proud of your poetry, proud of your rhymes
Your unvalued hobby, your peculiar pastime
You like reading the thesaurus for fun!
Never apologize, never be done
You know
your old soul
Don't fall into the female curse
Of self-sacrifice, always love yourself, first.
7/17/18
From my window lofty high
I sit and watch the passersby
Safely from within the womb
Of this quiet and private room
That's my asylum in the sky
And, I imagine...
From the safety of my perch
Above the elm, the oak, and birch
Alone, I slowly drift through life
Exempt from conflict, chance, or strife
Away from any harmful search
And, I imagine...
From my pinnacle of peace
Much like the eagle, lark, and geese
I wrap myself in solitude
Safely from the multitudes
And their evils that never cease
And, I imagine...
I imagine a world doing good
With folks behaving like they should
A world glowing with brotherly love
That's flowing down from God above
With all faiths lovingly understood
But then...
From this prison lofty high
I'm left alone to wonder why
Why the world became so cold
And, why compassion can't unfold
Out there perhaps a soul could try
But here alone,
...I can only imagine.
Timothy I. Brumley