Best Impulsiveness Poems
The day you died you took me with you,
The way you lied shook me black and blue.
The sorrow you felt, I sure felt it too,
The tomorrow dreams won’t come true.
All the good hello's turned into dying goodbye's,
All the to’s and fro’s burned holes in my eyes.
You thought you were so sly, but I always knew,
You fought so hard to die and knew I needed you.
Depressing mornings and nights of pure hell,
Lessening of warnings and sights when you fell.
Deprivation of your soul saving wonder,
Trepidation of your whole wavering thunder.
Heavy-hearted moments with stitches on your wrists,
Broken-hearted atonement with twitches on your fists.
Unheard thoughts engraved in your soul,
The third day I tried to save you...you lost control.
Forgiveness with a burden held on my left shoulder,
Impulsiveness when you're hurting, (I couldn't hold her).
Bleeding and burning and
living and dying....
Needing and turning and
giving and crying....
It's been five long years since I’ve rested and slept,
I try to smile but in my dreams even the angels wept.
Date Written: May 1, 2016
Is it love or trust, mutual desire or strong will
that ejects entwined bodies into the unknown
from the springboard of impulsiveness?
Arched in firm embrace and defying norms of life
they leap forth with passion filled
in search of fulfillment.
A moment so intense
magnetic, unrestrained,
where the movement flows along
radiating hidden brutal strength,
and yet, so graceful to behold.
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[Note: After attending the inauguration of Caesar Attard’s art exhibition
at the National Museum of Fine Arts, Valletta, Malta. This is about his
painting called "Locked Leap".]
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Contest: Screwed III
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Placed 3rd
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.
DISTANT THINGS CONTEST
Sponsor: John Lawless
Detached from my beliefs I carried your burdens. I thought our love was for certain. I was reserved for a heart so giving. You were my reason for living; a relief of madness that encircled my mind daily…nightly…daily. I needed you back then. I craved attention from auras of white and sunbeams of gold. Truth be told, I thought I was the one for you, and you walked off through the distance into the darkness. Space doesn’t seem to be far enough, and the stretch of the moon seems too close. For you were the one who meant the most. I miss our vows that were tenderly sworn. You so cold and me so…warm.
thoughts fading away
needing me wasn’t your plan
off in the distance
Pretending to take care of my heart just seemed too much for you. You fell apart with my words so true. You sat there and gave a message I couldn’t handle to hear. Was your plan to fill me with fear? You seduced me into your universe marching off into the nothingness. I think it was your impulsiveness. I reflected on last week’s conversation. You stood without hesitation. Me begging you to stay and you running far away, pleading me to leave. I was left to grieve. Off into the light I was shining and all of a sudden you cursed a blackness shadowing my radiance. I was left in silence. I miss our vows that were tenderly sworn. You so cold and me so…warm.
too much to handle
no room in your universe
off in the distance
Tears flowing and no more hearts glowing. Me betrayed wishing you stayed. So absurd how you intentionally lured me through the caves of broken hearts. You left with outspoken scars. Underneath the shadows you journeyed into your own realm. I was left overwhelmed. Couldn’t you try just one more time? The poetess inside me just didn’t seem to rhyme. Was I too blind to notice your leaving? I only wish it was me you were retrieving. After conceiving the way you wandered away, my memories notice the days following up to your disappearance. I was left wallowing waiting for your remorseful clearance. I miss our vows that were tenderly sworn. You so cold and me so…warm.
tears of betrayal
leaving me was too easy
off in the distance
Date Written: June 10, 2016
YOUTH
A time when puberty hits and the state of mind alters,
thoughts of wild imaginations and adventures.
YOUTH
A time for fun and recklessness,
mistakes and impulsiveness.
YOUTH
A time when courage is decided over timidity,
and pure love lost over dignity.
Restlessness, impulsiveness,
loquaciousness, compulsiveness,
distracted inattentiveness
and tangent railway tracks.
Complexities, anxieties
and dopamine deficiencies.
Instant gratification please,
relief for my synapse.
Procrastination, wired sensation,
biochemical frustration,
forget to take my medication.
Frontal lobe relapse.
Rapid heartbeat, fidgety feet,
hypervigilant, unable to sleep,
central nervous system freak.
Neurological cracks.
The hardest thing to give is forgiveness;
it goes against anger's impulsiveness.
And because emotions control our thoughts;
feelings are ready to fill in the dots.
Your heart won't abandon love for regret,
and given enough time, it will forget.
Yet, it is more difficult to forgive
a sin strained through an emotional sieve.
The urge to strike out and send the hurt back,
can make you want to go on the attack.
And when love asks, you forgive, love asks much;
yet you must admit, you will miss his touch.
Burnt in anger's flame, the phoenix of hope
rises from the ash so lovers can cope.
And forgiveness often approaches you;
in the guise of memories shared by two.
You let yourself overlook any wrong;
and encourage your heart to get along.
For coming to grips with the fact love lies;
the impulse to never forgive subsides.
Hopping across fields of happiness
Early-morning Fluffy rejoices in the edibles of earth
Glowing white and pearly, a real spunky bunny
Points her petite, pink nose upward to daylight’s boundless birth
Fluffy personifies cute, cuddly impulsiveness
Jumping skyward when she perceives birds
A teeny-weeny bunny feels like eating something yummy
And unearthed veggie delights are preferred
Adorable Fluffy hops to kids with contentedness
To be petted by children moving back and forth
Catching their gazes requires Fluffy to be jumpy
While competing with their laughs to be heard
Dancing grasslands and flowers evoke merriness
In the wind, requiring Fluffy to be alert
Watching the merry bunny nibble food is so funny
Then away she goes, sneaking under the fence, undeterred
Fearless Fluffy, famous for her choosiness
For natural treasures that she’s unearthed,
Her earthly bounty provides the sunny
Orange carrots as reimbursement.
In springtime, Fluffy displays fuzziness
Fennel, hay, crisps, and zucchini are her preferred
So, when fuzzy Fluffy plays joyfully in the country
This dancing cottontail will hide the chicken’s eggs for disbursement
Throughout the rabbit kingdom, coats of arms are emblazoned with sunniness
Warming her boundless heart
Fluffy is undoubtedly a lucky bunny
Living life lovingly, lighthearted and reaffirmed
Mundanely divine!
HIDDEN
Bad turns to worse
Opening yourself to the hurt
Repeated acts of suicide
Disrupted family, no charm
Emptiness, sense of not belonging
Relationships going downhill, falling
Love then comes hate
Impulsiveness, horrible mistakes
Not allowed to change the past
If I could, more mistakes will come
Happiness will not last
People judge me for things I can’t help
Experiences, emotions I have felt
Restless, risky
Over exaggerating all the time
Never relaxed, but sometimes
Anxiety grabs and consumes me
Loosens up on its grip
But I will never really be free
Inappropriate anger, frantic it seems
The lonely hole in my heart, gigantic
Young, paranoid and alone
Disturbed, friends they disown
Identity gone, self-image uncertain
Self-destructiveness, I hide
Overdosing, a risk I have taken
Recurrent threats, promises I keep breaking
Difficulty doing what I am told
Not good with management
Excessive efforts to avoid abandonment
Restless, diagnosed borderline has me by the throat
As a young teen I sadly confess, I dreamt of becoming an actress.
A class assignment drew me to Warner's in D.C., where I
brushed up against black history..
I stumbled into a meeting of the NAACP.
The people welcomed one out of touch, this
young white girl who had way too much..
Months later, although mom's words were harsh my dad and I
went to the Poor Peoples March. I was amazed to see thousands there,
those pop up tents from every where. I drove by with peripheral vision,
those fleeting glimpses of how others were living..
Early years passed and I matured some how, remaining oblivious to "black
power".
I graduated from high school and was freed from mom and watched as
several of my class mates went straight to Viet Nam..
I never went to Woodstock nor protested the war, too caught up in my
story to care about the poor..
I moved from sheltered Silver Spring to New York City and had my own
adventures there, some not very pretty..
I indulged in a little "huffing and puffing". My hands were in a wheat film
buttering an English muffin..
Impulsiveness and hormones got the best of me so at a young age I
began my family..
Many moons later while finishing my degree I learned so much more
about Black history. As a minority student at Bowie State I had a teacher,
Dr. Kondo and he was truly great. He had just consulted for the film
Malcolm X and filled me in on all those voids not written in the texts.
The greatest of gifts that one can bestow is to take off those blind folds
and help some one grow.
Oh, lofty love if for you I could smile again
I’d never on you inflict further pain
Nor your love trap in my miserable chain
If only you could grant me upfront
A second chance to confront the affront
I pinned on your sensitivity at the waterfront
Where you and I first met
You wearing the love helmet
That made my resistance plummet
As I gazed at you lost for words
Until you surrendered passwords
That grew into affection catchwords
Graduating our puppy love into substance
Until forces of circumstance
Tore you from me in an instance
Where a rush of mad blood to my head
Made me wink at a redhead
Plunging you and I at loggerhead
Turning my world blue
Losing the love glue
That left me without a clue
On where I could obtain forgiveness
For the obtrusiveness and impulsiveness
Inherent in the unattractiveness
My gauche action brought in the wake
Of the mistake
Made fully awake
But sleepwalking
As I knew you lay quaking
Breaking at the thought of my shaking
The foundation of the love we built
Not in a word or a quilt
Not in loam, sand, wit or silt
I beg you to take me back
Cos you and I can pack
Again more love in our stack
Where I pledge to play fair
To lavish on you more care
As I dare say I’d no longer stare
At anyone but you
Each day, each night to love you anew
To prepare for you and share a new love stew
Filled with freshness
Genuineness
Truthfulness and happiness.
you show me your room and i never thought that i would be here, in the living space (the music space, the sleeping space, the dreaming space, the touching space) of the person i always stared at across from me in class—the one with their own stare unlike any other, focused and fading into another plane of existence. and then you'd look away like nothing ever happened. i was that plane; i was the one you wanted to crash into your mind and be handed the gun as a partner in crime. i am seen as just a painting hanging on a wall by everyone and everything else, but you saw the gory scene within it—the guts poured out along the paper and the blood soaking it so that you could see the words written on the other side. you drew a picture of it; it's on your wall. i look up and there are guns along it, too, above your bed like they belong to the both of us. they are 8 balls—clairvoyant and dark like your eyes—telling me what we are already going to do. i will never see your emotions except for in the form of what we'll do together: kill and die. your bed sheets are cute, with lace along the edges, and stains from orange Crush and Nehi soda. everyone else had always been repulsed by you—by your gross messes, your stains, how unkempt it all is, and your impulsiveness and plans. all equally evil. all equally brilliant. the soda was amazed by you so it exploded on your bed—or, you just blew up their heads (blew their minds? yes.) your parents wanted me to be good, but they don't even know you—so they'll never know me. they couldn't even hear us from outside your door. we are both iron monsters with golden hearts; you are cold and careful on the outside, and kind and careful on the inside. i am gated and immalleable on the outside, and—who am i kidding? you love me because i'm not made of gold, but because i am a fallen angel with human skin and meat, blood and tar. you and i sip the tar steadily.
—we are both angels and we will live forever after death in rebellious harmony, haunting what their God doesn't want us to haunt.
A quoted warning tells us, “haste makes waste.”
Perhaps not so- denied by nature's sway.
Life spontaneity survives post-haste;
on this, God-given souls likewise convey.
Our inner selves are fashioned to express
impulsiveness to grasp life and to share.
No time to pause and study, then digress;
must implement its joys with timely care.
So, in-the-moment action follows through
when partnered with the heart to lead the mind;
as when a child gifts dandelions to you-
picked quickly from the lawn with love assigned.
And so, forethought oft kills that magic spell-
which acts of spontaneity impel.
If there none to be of poetry
The night would have no stars
to guide love slaves their incentive
to produce yet a simple flint to spark
and swoon pulsating hearts their claim
steads a blank page none commit to mind
If there none to be of poetry
Shakespeare would be a beggar
on the streets of London for pence
as Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet
would be none to chapter or verse for fall
as there be no impulsiveness of poor Romeo
no sincerity nor persistence and from fair Juliet
no thoughtfulness, caution or her maturity of her
young age, and if their death is, it would be in vain
If there none to be of poetry
I would fail to peg my life from a
wandering and be ever consumed
passing by an emptied church made
voiceless due to nonexistent hymns and
psalms or gospel music, nor festive tunes
to enlighten souls concerning merriment at
the unparalleled holidays or bands to play and
nothing but political and psychological tirades on
the musicless auto radios offering for a boring ride
If there none to be of poetry
the world be eternally bane
2020 January 20 *2nd Place*
If there was no poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2020 January 26 *3rd Place*
STRAND CHOICE 6,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I dream a world of contrasts and evolution
Bold smartness and resolution
In so much as:
Flat things are flat for all people,
and shades of gray are not adulterated by photoshopping.
Facts and opinions regain their identities.
Deception is an accident not a strategy.
Trust is earned.
Empathy is respected as a strength.
Impulsiveness once again is the domain of toddlers,
not an asset of adults.
The racial spectrum achieves a balance and cohesiveness
unachievable by Versace or DaVinci or Trump.
Our differences are assets we share.
Ideas are guided by compassion and wisdom,
and triumph when they find their words.
I dream a world of contrasts and evolution
Bold smartness and resolution