Best In The First Place Poems
Can you count the times you’ve crossed me
And divide it by the times you disrespected me
Then multiply that by the times you hurt me
And come up with a figure?
Relatively speaking it’s a simple equation
Resulting in a drastic re-calculation of the outcome.
Can you give me the square root of the problem
That started this whole conundrum in the first place
And tally up the results and give me a statistical
Analysis comparing the amount of times you
Left me wondering why I’m on this earth
Or if I’m not worthy of trust?
I’m sure the answer would be skewed resulting
In the necessity to rethink the control group.
I believe the right course of action would be to
Figure out the base and height of the love triangle
You thought I wouldn’t notice, and in case you didn’t know
It, I’m pretty good at trigonometry.
Cause for me, who came into this problem with
Total devotion and a faithful trust, this doesn’t
Add up.
I am thoroughly convinced
that the value of a word
has less to do with meaning
and more about refrain --
sort of like, if it ain’t worth
repeating...it should not have
been said in the first place --
not that any word is entirely
worthless, for even the air
of a hollow, is a breath of
life for something --
sort of like, the shell of a conch
is an imaginative child’s Nautilus,
where all of Verne’s Fantastic Journeys
began, in the heart of a restless
dreamer….
Why do you give me a hard look from your face?
that you don't like what you see?
that I'm from a different race?
Why can't we see eye to eye?
why do I disgust you,
like you don't wanna be near me
would you please tell me?
tell me why you hate me?
Do you hate me because of the color of my skin?
like I'm a disease?
you don't think I have desires?
that I have needs?
We aren't from the same race,
but by soul,
we live in the same world.
You may think I'm nothing,
just push me into the mud,
knowing we both have the same colored blood.
You can't judge me by my appearance,
or by my race,
or even the color on my face.
Say what you want to say,
you can't judge me,
for I didn't choose to exist in the first place.
I feel trapped in a shell and want to get out
It get so frustrating I want to shout
Trying to figure out what put me here in the first place
Before I leave this cramped little space
Not wanting to return to what put me here
Trying to avoid my constant fear
Of people hurting me...
Keeping me from who I want to be
I need to realize that I deserve the best
And no longer settle for anything less
I want to escape without looking back
I want to remain on a new solid track
Happy, without fear and totally free
The part of me I miss to be
How do I get rid of this shell?
Once upon a time I knew oh so well
But now I can’t seem to figure it out
Why, where, what is this all about?
Set me free for I am stuck
Praying hard for better luck
I need to escape, this overworked mind
I need to break out and need to unwind
For now all I can do is pray
That life works out in an amazing way
For now all there is to say
Is in this cramped shell, I can no longer stay
Time to focus on me
Be all I ever wished to be
While I’m finally breaking free
In the Throes of Dying Love
In the throes of dying love, you’re a
fallen angel, with no celestial saving grace.
Rose-tinted glasses shattered, you’re no longer
my hero, just a stark-naked zero.
You besmirch every passing season
that we shared…hacking them down,
one by one, like ugly unwanted weeds
in your garden. And my hope for a new you
faded with the waning silver of the moon.
You’ve lost your lissome, school-boy charms;
and the power to pinion me with your cold,
mesmerizing eyes, those squinting black holes
that once sucked me in…trying to suffocate me.
Your love is just as phony as your
painted-on smile, and that old forged,
water-color painting of a loving couple,
that I found buried under dust
and cobwebs in the attic.
But as that ancient, worn-out sun sinks to repose,
in the dense, oblivion of dark firmament,
so has our sojourn ended…and I’ve forgotten
why I loved you in the first place.
Sadly, like that cheap wedding ring you bought me,
you’re irrelevant…in the throes of dying love.
05-22-2018
Contest: Eight Word Challenge – 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Placement: 3rd
8 Words: throes, celestial, besmirch, pinion, lissome, repose, firmament, sojourn
I can’t breathe.
It isn’t because I’m upset,
Because I’m not.
Not upset.
I rarely am anymore.
No, that’s wrong.
I am,
Sometimes,
But it’s not painful
Like it used to be
Back when I had real emotions;
Back when I knew what it meant
To be human
And not an empty husk
With nothing going on inside.
I’m a husk,
And God
But it hurts so much
To be empty.
Words echoing,
Screaming,
Always screaming in my head,
Slamming their fists
Against my battered throat,
Tripping over my bloody tongue,
Whispering past my chewed lips
Because all their power
Was lost fighting me.
I’m my own villain,
My own executioner.
I wrap ropes around my neck
And take a leap of faith
Off the nearest building.
My community service?
Suicide.
Wipe my remains off
Of your three-hundred-dollar boots
And forget about the girl
Who used to sit across from you in class
With the saddest smile;
Twisting her depression
Into something almost edible.
Forget about the girl
Who stood for
Everything that burns
And curdles
And breaks.
Forget about the girl
Who used to be okay.
Forget about the girl
Who’s nothing more
Than a streak across the pavement
And a brief vigil in the streets,
An excuse for tears
When she didn’t deserve them
In the first place.
As the December portion of life's treacherous journey arrives,
We tend to contemplate things that have happened in our lives.
Strange that we can recall events that occurred fifty years ago,
But now can't remember what day it is, adding to our woe!
Writing notes to ourselves regarding things that must be done,
We forget where we put them, leaving many things undone!
Tying a string around the finger to remind us of our obligations,
We wonder what it is doing there, adding to our frustrations!
Where the car was left in the parking lot is anybody's guess.
To find it is akin to the Israelites wandering the wilderness!
We misplace the house and car keys, causing panic untold,
But that's just another cross we must bear for growing old!
Going to another room to do something, our steps we retrace,
Having forgotten what we went there for in the first place!
Running amok searching for lost glasses causes us much dread.
Usually they can be found perched upon the crown of our head!
Those dreaded senior moments are part of growing old I suppose,
But if I may, here is something that I would like to propose:
Well, I declare! I forgot what it was I was going to say!
Maybe I'll think of it later to suggest another day!
I can’t help but wonder, about the blunder, of building a one room log cabin,
Where man and wife, lived a private life, ‘til kids became real, not imagined
With no partitions, or new additions, you’d think their sex life would run ashore.
But they both knew, how to make it through, by inventing a thing called the chore.
As each kid did sprout, pa had to go out, and think up a new job for the tot.
He soon realized, that for his farm’s size, there were more tots then jobs to be got.
And the matriarch, made the remark, that inside we plum ran out of space.
So they tried to rid, their house of kids, as fast as were made in the first place.
At last the last lad, made a nice lass glad, got married and had a grand party,
But pa had ma’s hind, right on his mind; they arrived at the party, tardy.
Well all went ok, until the sad day, when the old man’s life ran out of time.
And then poor ma, lost her chutzpah, plus the cabin exceeded its prime.
So ma did call, her last son Paul, asked if he knew what she should do then,
He said oh dear, I just moved here, and that we don’t even have a den.
But son relents, and acts the gent, there is space in one nook of our room.
If you feed cows, and all the sows, cause heck ma, I’ve got a new bride groom.
Written 1/22/13
My heart is broken
Shattered like smashed glass
Shards pierce my tortured soul
All I can do is ask …… why?
Why … why did you desert me when I needed you so …
You smiled that smile for the last time
The smile that attracted me to you in the first place
Your mouth curling up at the corners revealing those dimples…
Oh I could never resist dimples …
You were surrounded by machines … they were keeping you alive
Then suddenly the machine stopped beeping …
There was nothing else that could be done
Goodbye my love …….. gone forever
My thanks to Arthur Vaso for bringing this form called Infinite Dot Thirteen Verse to my attention
4th April 2015
Note : as an experiment i took a random article from the newspaper and extracted phrases from it to eventually form this sonnet. A fun exercise!
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Economic purists say, relief should,
Never have been given in the first place.
Whether that is true or not, perception,
Has always been politically good.
Sensitive issues, as they have and could,
Ever been percieved as assisting in grace.
Relief to be aboloshed! Reflection –
Affordability is understood.
However, now it is to be removed,
People shouldn’t get alarmed, the market
Change to this would deem, respite is disproved.
Any mortgage taken out – we regret.
For seven tax years by that date – and yet
We believe this is the case – hmmm, approved!
If a “friend” cancels you like a stamp, they never were you
friend in the first place!
Friends give people space to be themslves! They welcomed you,
and trusted you in their heart’s space,
Moreover, not one of us wants a friend, that thinks they are a god.
A Mr.or Mrs, stuffed shirt, an inelligensia of know it all?
A friend need not be a Ph,D to us, nor flash her or hishatred in our face.
That is an inhumane, arrogant disgrace!
Just someone who truly cares about us, who and honors us as we are!
With understanding, grace andd gentleness, of and compassion beyond par!
And always remembers.. we all part of the human race,
By God’s most kind and generous holy grace.
Hatred and genocide in any, a hideous and ugly face!
1/26/2025
Stop! The violent protests and leave peaceful protesters out to make a difference strictly along. Whether you are in law enforcement or the national guard. You need to pray for peaceful solutions! But if all you want to do is assault police officers. Or if protesters burn down business and destroy personal and real property. If you want to incite rioting and violence! You need to be apprehended! I am sick and tired of racist police officers using African American males, Hispanic, and Native American males as "target practice" or unlawful harassment! Black Lives Matter! Today the city of Houston is holding memorial ceremonies for George Floyd. They firmly believe the time has come for closure and for our nation to move forward.
I am sorry about what happened to George Boyd and other minority groups! But letting your explosive anger erupted like a volcano! That Minnesota police officer committed nineteen years of similar acts of racism and violence. He just happened to get caught in the act! He never should have been admitted to the police academy in the first place! The other officers just stood there and watched! It was a national tragedy! In London England, Black Lives Matter are conducting peaceful protests in solidarity with the United States!
Some groups will use any excuse to riot! Some police officers will use any excuse to commit acts of violence! I firmly believe in peaceful protests! Unfortunately, they often end up in tragedy! One bad reaction by one or more groups leads to retaliation by the opposition! Resulting only escalating violence! The president wants to call out the United States military. And it will happen unless senseless acts of violence come to an abrupt ending! The Beatles once sang, "come together right now over me." "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me."
Stop! The senseless acts of violence! Private citizens even in communities such as Snohomish Washington! Are arming themselves, and standing outside of the business to protect them. They are citizens vigilantes. They want to stop looters and vandals in their tracks! In the days of the old west, there used to lynch mobs! We do not want the bad old days back again!
Love as always,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
June 02-03,2020
June 09, 2020 edited
It's been a little and some more
Since i seen the sea
As the tide was out upon
my previous visitation
So i left without the smell of
salty air stimulating my sensibilities
Until i had to convince myself i
was actually there in the first place
So stupid me i filled a glass with
half water then half salt beside
my bedroom table
And smeared my face with coconut
butter sun cream
In the hope i would remember
what the sea looked and smelt
like
To tide myself over till the
next time
Blackpool isn't clouded over
by the north western light's
of Southport
And i can remember what life
actually feels and tastes like
Before the ghosting mist and
fog obscured the view
Oh windmill stationary blowing
forlorn out to Irish sea
Shipping Forecasts
3 Legs of Man
I wonder if Jan is looking back
in nostalgic contemplation as
am i
Do dreams dream-up the Dreamer to mean something
Do dreams go on dreaming without the Dreamer dreaming
Hold not dreams in mid-stream even during Covid-19
Woken-up dreams scream wild as harpies in poetic shebeen
Don’t dreams tend to come round like long lost tunes tinnitus din
The Dreamer dreams in the Void trillion times trillion
And leaves no trace of hung time-spaced dream dreaming in the Dream
Who would dream dreams for oneself they wouldn’t highly esteem
Dreams worthy of a world they didn’t really mean to wean
In the first place out of a Void-less Big-Banging blinding sheen
The Big-Bouncy Dream teasing the fistful of mashed Big-Crunchy cream
Where the Dreamer bounces his Dream on the seamless turf green
O’er and o’er again ‘till the Dream turns tinnitus mean
Till the recurrent Dream the Dreamer dreams his own Uni-Verse seem
Ev’ry dream’s the Multi-Verse of a unique team unseen
Do dreams dream-up the Dreamer standing-up on a linear Time pin
(c) T. Wignesan – Paris, January 17, 2021
They scoop me up, I smell so good. Others come, and stand in line. People shifting, impatiently.
They pay money, as cash registers sing happily. Wide pleasing smiles appear when they reach for us.
One starts eating me before she returns to her seat. She sets me on the ground in a stall for a bit.
Picks me up, washes her hands, and dives in again. Her hands are cooler now, but I do not care.
It feels wonderful to be appreciated. My smell has permeated the theater now. Others are running
Toward the cash registers, eager to give their money, so they can begin diving into my relatives.
I hear my brothers and sisters laughing as they happily crack and pop. My dad smells so tasty!
My mother is smacking in delight as someone gulps her down. Ugh! A kernel one says.
I watch him spit my kernel cousin Jake onto the carpet. I feel sad as I watch a dustpan get him.
It would feel terrible, rejected like that. My family is a proud bunch. We are excited that
We are more popular than the stars and shows that brought this crowd here in the first place.