Best Impaired Poems
All the fingers wait
raised, spread
and the flexes start
the bends
the creeps and crawls
All the fruit laid before you
the knife cuts
uncovers concealed
scents and flesh
All the linen,
folded in crisp creases
your all-seeing eye
unwraps ruthlessly
one crumb grounded
in one corner
one drop of red
One snowflake carries
so many crystals
inifinitely perfect
They disappear
before you decide to dissect
they don't fear the sharp
but the time
it takes
to slice
***
July 18, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
maternal instinct
mothers love eternally
why did mine not know
01/03/2020
I wish I could grow a bit
so my legs and jeans would fit
without using sewing kits or iron hem
just once them jeans would fit.
I wish I was five foot four
or maybe a little more
I could wear fashion galore, off the peg,
I beg, two inches more.
S-peak not the truth, pleasant or not,
I-n my mouth, silence resounds;
G-ive me your smile and not a frown,
N-od your head and I’ll understand.
L-ift up my spirit as I do the rest,
A-ccept me for what I am and my weaknesses,
N-eeding your special love, care and sweetness,
G-od rewards you a thousand folds if you can give.
U-pbeat so much of your capabilities,
A-ll of us have something to share;
G-uide me to make the stars not out of my reach,
E-nigma of my strength is you, my God’s gift.
Sign language helps you to understand me,
for I am a child who is a hearing impaired.
Aug. 11,2012
Note: I composed this poem lovingly dedicated to exceptional kids especially the HI. May God bless you all.
I despair from the invisible thorns,
Inflicted on me by the forces of hurt
I desire to flee beyond,
from within the ****** of crossroads
Sweet pain!
I've come to see.
I’m trapped in a fortress as thick as steel
The puzzle called earth plays me, like poker
I flaunt my guts in a minute entity
I flex my panache to few and sundry
The gods have smiled,
But I’ve laughed yet not
I’m prepared, I know
But they think otherwise.
The saints have sang
But the rhythm still plays.
I’m sensitive, so I feel everything
In the sense of it, and beyond of it
My time is served
But the shackles stay clasped
My wings and cape were made to soar
Un-glue me from my cubicle in hell’s pit
Whose tears do I shed?
Who is the snail in front of me?
On the one-track path to light
Yearn has become my alias
I know, I know
Patience is the watchword
But even her, lacks perfection
My case just might be an exception
Oh King of us
What are your thoughts?
Does it really matter that i conform to the norms of the day?
What perfect blueprint is there for the journey called life?
Who are you to chastise me for being filled with flaws?
Only one was made perfect.
who deems it otherwise?
Who made you judge and jury over the morally bankrupt?
How dare you raise your nose when your anus is filthy?
Aren't we all on this journey to utopia?
what being dares claim arrival?
That life is fraught with connundrums and challenges is not far fron the turth.
That humans of different races will be judged alike is up for debate.
I'm filled with vices, and so are you
but thou hipocrisy shields your misdeeds.
Listen, fellow weaklings
Take caution as you condescend,
for the descent is inevitable.
What fun is there to life if we dont fall and rise?
What story will be told if we dont lose and repossess?
How would we become fitter if we are not faced with storms?
Who can best define our cause on devil's roof?
Is it survival or procreation?
Is it strifes or oppression?
No one really can tell, only HIM knows
Clerics hold us bondage to selfish doctrines,
and we gullibly oblige.
Like a procession of zombies,
yearning for the release their words present,
unable to put our reasoning to test,
and lose the cloak of vulnerability.
Who exactly are we?
puppets of nature?
or rivals in the ring of life?
Do you wonder why harmony dwell scarce in the elements?
Or why philophobia lives in the heart of men?
I'm speechless, i tremor
at the level of discord we habour
Can humans ever really change?
do we just suppress some deeds at whim?
and display others when we desire.
Will we ever be whole?
Become a Tennis VIP,
A Visually Impaired Player - just like me,
No matter how your sight loss occurred,
Your vision black, incomplete, or blurred,
With adapted rules and cool soundball,
It’s a great sport - designed to suit all,
Don’t question your abilities, or be shy,
Just join in the fun and give it a try ...
It’s quite sweet to be with her
Her height will bring me a blur
Growing tall a mystery
Short, she’s a puppy
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Brian Strand's "SHORT & SWEET" contest
2/14/2012
Yes, I wear a mask
to shield from Covid 19.
My glasses fog up.
ONE IMPAIRED FATHER REARED BY HIS SON
or
AN EXPANDED EXPLANATION
Oh how I wish I’d been a father like him
Rather than a father whose future was duly dark and dim
I raised my son in the starkness of a future filled with fear
A wondrous young son a frightened father was somehow to rear
Oh if only I had the wherewithal to have known it all
Rather than a father who couldn’t even teach his son how to crawl
I had too many other concerns in my body and mind
While my son had a father who was metaphorically blind
My eyes were incapable of seeing too much
While I reveled in my tiny son’s most tender touch
Otherwise I was numb to my son’s naturalized needs
With a litany of habits to satiate and feed
I saw that father pushing his son on the swings
While I was a dove wounded with withering wings
That father in the park was all I truly wanted to be
But alas, I was a father who was a father like me
I risked my son’s life time and time again
While pretending I could be just like most other men
Men who owned the wherewithal to do something worthwhile
Yet and still my little son always imaged a soothing smile
While he was smiling I was frowning and filled with fright inside
Since the age of seventeen when my self-control died
I was a father wrought and fraught with anxiety and fear
And if only I could have been a dad like that father by the swings over there
© 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Darkness lures above and under,
Light is no where to be seen,
Scared of what I can not hear,
Frightened of what I can not see,
Maybe if I tried harder,
Maybe if I prayed to God,
Maybe if I screamed and hollered,
Someone could show me what's wrong,
After all my fighting, my fusing and my crying too,
I know what's wrong with me,
I can't see and I can't hear,
But that's ok with me.
ONE IMPAIRED FATHER REARED BY HIS SON
Oh how I wish I’d been a father like him
Rather than a father whose future was duly dark and dim
I raised my son in the starkness of a future filled with fear
A wondrous young son a frightened father was somehow to rear
Oh if only I had the wherewithal to have known it all
Rather than a father who couldn’t even teach his son how to crawl
I had too many other concerns in my body and mind
While my son had a father who was metaphorically blind
My eyes were incapable of seeing too much
While I reveled in my tiny son’s most tender touch
Otherwise I was numb to my son’s naturalized needs
With a litany of habits to satiate and feed
I saw that father pushing his son on the swings
While I was a dove wounded with withering wings
That father in the park was all I truly wanted to be
But alas, I was a father who was a father like me
I risked my son’s life time and time again
While pretending I could be just like most other men
Men who owned the wherewithal to do something worthwhile
Yet and still my little son always imaged a soothing smile
While he was smiling I was frowning and filled with fright inside
Since the age of seventeen when my self-control died
I was a father wrought and fraught with anxiety and fear
And if only I could have been a dad like that father by the swings over there
© 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
for some it is true vision
the kind used with the eyes
but in this path of life
with all of its joy and strife
therer's higher purpose in disguise
one fine day, it wasn't really fine
the clock hit stride, I found myself crying
Things were upside down, taking an ugly turn
I was ready to stand up, but it was a painful burn
riled up with thoughts, shaken with the hate
things started to happen, which I never wrote in my beautiful dreamt fate
What I said, only I had to deal
Oh no, was it the end? Is this agony that I feel?
My vision wasn't healthy to look through the truth so dark
even the courage that I had was told not to try
"there is no spark"
Words may be light, but I don't sob boarding this flight
It was a beautiful journey with gorgeous sleepless nights
It wasn't all carefree, or as easy as a cake bite
There were fights, without worrying who's wrong or who is right
No regret, as they say, give it some time and it will pay
Trying it all, giving it all and recollecting myself as I fall
The only thing I rue is the goodbye
I swear I wanted to hug you like there was no tomorrow
Pity, you are a fraud
And now I have a lifetime worth of sorrow.
Trump Became Mentally Impaired
About anyone at all Trump never cared,
And he has become mentally impaired;
To world blow,
We do know;
All those around to death surely scared.
Jim Horn