Best Inactivity Poems
With Shakespearean romance I can't compete
Or Virginia Woolf's lovely agony
Or the wit of Dorothy Parker or Mark Twain
The genius of Emily Dickinson, splendidly plain
I know there isn't a need for my amateur offerings
I freely admit - I do it for me
I want notice; I want my spark to be seen
When I first found this site I read a whole batch
Of poets whose prose I could never match
I was eaten up with insecure jealousy
But also found it inspiring
After twenty years of inactivity
My muse awoke to creativity
I drank in new ideas, forms, advice
My skill grew stronger, found new life
I started placing in contests - what a rush!
On comments I developed quite the crush-
Both receiving, and leaving
Encouraging and believing
I discovered true kinship and camaraderie
And the privilege of reading such artistry
Of which I am truly admiring
The recipe
For this soup of poetry
Is reciprocity.
9/15/18
Life teaches many a valuable truth,
That makes our existence one of worth.
Graying and growing old is no curse,
As experience directs life’s course.
See life as a mysterious puzzle,
And death as an inexorable struggle.
Know, hatred burns life like fire,
And wickedness turns it into mire.
On Earth, forgiveness bonds hearts
But revenge, sure, every bond thwarts
Even the guilty falls prostrate,
Before those willing to commiserate.
Know, a true friend has no deceit,
And a truly learned has no conceit.
If jealousy is an acid which erodes,
Generosity is a fuel that reloads.
If inactivity is akin to death,
Creativity is vital as breath.
If perseverance conquers mountains
Laziness dries up fountains.
While pride leads a man to his fall
Humility takes him closer to his goal.
While Honesty leads him to salvation
Deceit drives him to damnation.
Patience is an inexhaustible well,
And perversion, a sure road to hell.
Know, those who long for the crown,
Should also be torn by the thorn.
While love of God takes us to eternity,
Love of man leads us to fraternity.
With such priceless tips learned in bits,
Let us light up our life in glowing glitz.
May we bury our past with all its blues,
As each morn of hope brightly blooms!
May. 6. 2023
~ Placed First~
Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sotto Poet
There sneaked a micro organism into the lives of human kind from elsewhere,
Who made it intruded is still a mystery, yet it’s fate of the world
That life on earth is engulfed with thorns and bruises?
They say: It’s from bats, some say: it’s a shoot of ‘Bio-war’,
No doubt it’s a sinister game and human lives are the ball, hit and shot,
Thousands of goals have been dropped and there was no cry of joy,
But ‘cross the world there hath been flow of tears and fears.
The human lives, tainted with creepy killer organism, seek shields of defense,
And there around the Round Table Conference clicked a thought of ‘Social distancing’.
Provinces and states raised the alarm of crisis to avert throngs and mobs,
It hath been a portent for the imminent disaster on the face of earth,
A ‘day of shut’ hath been imposed on the lives as precaution –
No politics, no religion, no caste, no race and ego shall be the law,
For the blood is the same red with tissues and organs for all.
The day began with the legal menace ‘cross the country,
And the wheels and bags were restricted screech and rustle,
The rich and the poor entered their ‘house bags’,
And there seen empty roads and streets except faint travelers.
Round the clock people’s saviours were seen sweeping and spraying sterile medicine,
Life-saving doctors and nurses were seen in spring-up action,
And those infected folks were brought under the treatment of the life-savers.
Behind the legitimate bars of seclusion from the pandemic infection,
There was seen a life of silence for a noble cause,
It was not a total inactivity, but a self introspection of social distancing -
A pledge to chase the epidemic killer virus away from human kind!
Media of service ran thro’ hazards and perils brought into rooms the day’s tasks.
It was a joint fight against COVID -19 beyond human restrictions,
And each of us shall be a victor ‘gainst the epidemic violence.
Started drinking fruit flavoured water now
Not the tastiest but I'll keep trying, I vow
In the winter months I always seem to gain
Inactivity is the culprit, exercising's a pain
When I walk, it's much more like a waddle
Sure don't resemble a Givenchy model
Gonna keep on trying to recapture my youth
Downed another swig of gin and vermouth
Now everything appears to be quite copacetic
Gin works wonders as an anesthetic
So getting back to the fruit flavoured water
A lot more concerned than this guy oughta
I'm almost eighty-eight so why should I care
Soon I'll be trapped in my big easy chair
Wifey will feed me some ground up mush
Dentures down the toilet gets flushed
But there's a silver lining waiting for me
If I could only get rid of my gimpy old knee
Bottom line is this, sure had a great life
Came up a big winner by a roll of the dice
My feet are always aching, like I've been on them all day
my muscles keep on twitching, my back keeps giving way
the migraines keep me tired and the Fibro too
I'm seriously lacking energy, but I've got so much to do.
The list keeps getting longer, I've lost my train of thought
now a daily struggle, I wish my pain was naught
I'm really good at hiding, exactly how I feel
though my tank is nearly empty, I need my bod to heal.
My skin is all darn prickly, like I'm poked with pins
I'm lacking motivation, I really need some wins
Sleeps another factor, don't get much of that
which leads to inactivity and bloody body fat.
WTF!
As I roll out of bed tomorrow
I’m gonna say goodbye sorrow
Fare thee well Mr. Cynicism
See you later Mr. Pessimism
Adios to Mr. Skepticism
Exit negativity, enter positivity
No procrastination and inactivity
An idle mind is the devils workshop
That’s why I’ll exert myself nonstop
No more misery and depression
As exuberance replaces dejection
Success is around the corner
It’s coming now and not later
Victory is surely heading my way
No matter what people may say
I quit banking my future on luck
Time has come to break the duck
A new dawn has shown its face
My home will be a better place
I’m a potential winner, a true born victor
Within me lies a superstar, a megastar
No I’m not building castles in the air,
I’m not dreaming, I’m not hallucinating
I have to earn my place in history
Put a good ending to my unfinished story
My story is about confidence, not arrogance
I advocate humility, not vanity
Trials and tribulation come and go
Sticky situations are not unique to you
But we all know as well as you do
You need hard work and determination
For the youth, education is the only solution
You’ve got to make the decision
To extract yourself from destitution
Leave nothing at all to chance
For fortune favours the brave
No sweet without sweat, no pain, no gain
Each time you fall recollect and try again
A dream doesn’t become reality through magic
Lazy genius is not only sad but also tragic
Stay focused, keep your eyes on the prize
There is no substitute for hard work
There are no secrets to success
Only in the dictionary does success precede work
We are all gifted, skilled and talented
Unshackle that innate ability
Let loose that latent capability
I’m gonna prepare, plan and plot
Execute and give it my best shot
Until the day that I hit the jackpot
My city has been abandoned
by royalty for vultures to defecate and Hyenas to spit on.
The large hole left is a huge hindrance to every emotional functionality
making inactivity a coveted blessing to this feeling
which was once an inner paradise
as vacuum is more glorified to this emptiness
handled by a devastating care-taker.
Misery spins in a jet speed round an orbit of madness
while disgrace powers this system with the energy of ruin.
Reconciliation’s manual is drafted in an impossible language
b’cos everything within and outside the shores of existence
are on their knees on my behalf, yet mercy has been squashed
on this rocky heart I arrogantly created.
My moves of happiness have been jacked up
with a pivot of depression as its wheels are unscrewed
by the cruel tools of sadness.
The buttons of our memory now over-punched,
making the heart drown in a gutter of regrets
and dragged to the blind border of melancholy.
A heavy rope is tied around my neck yet nobody sees.
My throat, in cautious contact with a sharp knife but nobody cares.
I face reject like a delicacy without seasoning from a Tongue
and dislocated by doom
like summer without daylight or spring without the rains.
I stand alone and afflicted by this mood so barren.
She has passed the message so clearly
but not without leaving an injured soul.
A tree of three trunks and ten branches
which grows particularly the maple leaf
and blest with a natural freezer customized by climatic inactivity
with a unique symbol of in-habitation in Alert.
A global authority in the possession of bitumen,
the fortification of Quebec- a stand out in North American glory
consumes nature’s tithe in forest cover
and a popular wealthy merchandise of underground currencies.
It shares the world’s longest meeting point between two lips
and so wet with lakes existing in their millions.
Then second to none in the strength of tidal currents in the world.
while sex sells but prohibited to be bargained or bought.
Next to the largest global nation
is this land housing hospitable citizens
with its warmheartedness centrally preserved in Ottawa.
Identifying with the two most politically and economically related languages
which are highly significant nation-wide
like its consumption of macaroni and cheese.
All the same the uniqueness of its influence is set apart;
silent is its global contribution but powerful is its international attraction.
"The pen is mightier than the sword"
- In general, I guess that's true
But mine's a lazy blighter;
It treats sloth as a bloody virtue
It's not the liveliest of beasts
It's always at a halt
It likes staring at blank paper
As though that's the thing at fault
It lives a charmed sedentary life
Full speed is torpidly inert
It charges around at the pace of a slug
When flat out and alert
My pen possesses zero 'nift' -
I can't fault it for being too nifty
Its' sweet repose is a full-on doze
It thinks saving ink is thrifty
It's scintillatingly steady
So passively at peace
Unchanging in its' inactivity
Like a grazing wildebeest
So languid and so supine
As it munches on my thought
Remaining ever restful
Seeing hibernation as a sport
It's frustratingly calm and fixed
To the point of being plain dull
And that's when it's being lively
It's worse still, when in a lull
But now and then I drag it
Out of its' latent, dormant air
Force it to get some exercise
And treat my thoughts with care
Often it’s quite useless
It's rare for the spark to light -
But when thought and pen work as one
Well, that's the time I write
What a year – Tim was just a little boy of 25 – naïve and
Lost in ‘innocence’ a critical time bomb waiting to happen
Blue-eyed he listened to Nena’s 99 Red Balloons flying high
While Band Aid wondered whether They Know it’s Christmas
Sticking plaster for an ignorant conscience
Plasters cast for broken souls and hunger
Summer Olympics in Los Angeles the world disunited
As the Soviet Union boycotted the Festival of Youth
Hollywood and Universal Studios Footloose competed
With The Killing Fields for consumption and Oscars
Dancing in full view of the Apocalypse
Khmer Rouge and Holding Out for a Hero
Miner’s Strike in Great Britain with Margaret Thatcher’s
Heavy handbag crushing legitimate opposition’s pickets
Reagan became ‘acting’ president and Space Shuttle discovered
That we have only have one lonely planet so we must muck it up
Cold War awaited nuclear freeze and
Hiroshima was declared a minor aberration
Metallica roared Blitzkrieg inferno and Armageddon
Iraq fought Iran and guess who was supporting whom
The US supplied Saddam Hussein with poison gas while
In Afghanistan they supported Taliban and Mujahedeen
‘The enemy of our foe is our good friend’
Coalitions must change freely in axes of evil
George Orwell comes to mind with Eurasia Oceania and
Eastasia altering alliances but then history must be forbidden
It can mislead young minds and wars have to be waged
For the sake of gory glory and self-righteous delight
Who reads books anyway and why and for what
They might seduce us to hail love and compassion
In 1984 Tim longed for flowers in hair scribbled Peace signs
On flare bottom jeans 20 years past The Sound of Silence
Had not mustered the courage yet to challenge the inevitable
Collusion of his inactivity with happy murder for money and oil
Slowly though he finds his belligerent voice and
Concludes that the 80’s offer more than nostalgia
Honour through labour is the ultimate goal
Achievement’s prefect sending an alert at every pause
Regulating inactivity to give idleness no chance
Demand is great and the stake is high
Whether through the hands and sweat of the skin
Or through mental strain and thorough thinking
Regular stress is the propeller to its engine, but
Keep the ball rolling in a controlled speed
In the long run, the effect will begin to show
Narrow is the gap left, success is no more far
Goals and targets met, fulfillment the new crown
Racking anguish vandalize my soul,
as my pen crawls across the empty page,
leaving the mirror image of my vitality.
A futile exercise turns into self pity.
A useless effort in self agitation.
Months of inactivity has left my muse
abused, misused, defused.
It seems I can write no more.
Is that correct? Is it the writing or the muse?
Writing is discipline, a few words each day.
Do I countervail my imagination?
For subjects must be born within the soul,
that soul I forgot about months ago.
Should I dream of valleys green,
or ice capped mountain unassailable?
Is my muse so hermetically sealed.
Perhaps I'll find it again....or perhaps not.
A Silent One Contest
Started drinking fruit flavoured water now
Not the tastiest but I'll keep trying, I vow
In the winter months I always seem to gain
Inactivity is the culprit, exercising's a pain
When I walk, it's much more like a waddle
Sure don't resemble a Givenchy model
Gonna keep on trying to recapture my youth
Downed another swig of gin and vermouth
Now everything appears to be quite copacetic
Gin works wonders as an anesthetic
So getting back to the fruit flavoured water
A lot more concerned than this guy oughta
I'm almost eighty so why should I care
Soon I'll be trapped in my big easy chair
Cathie will feed me some ground up mush
Dentures it seems, down the toilet got flushed
But there's a silver lining just waiting for me
If I could only get rid of my gimpy old knee
Bottom line is this, sure had a great life
Came up a big winner on the roll of the dice
© Jack Ellison 2015
I am staring at the screen;
blank screen, blank brain,
void of imagination and imagery.
Evaded once again by creativity,
I stare into the void of inactivity.
I conjure up a line, glimpse an idea,
then it is gone, and I can see no more.
Blank blank blank,
a blanket of literary fog has descended.
Composition ended.
blank screen, blank brain,
void of imagination and imagery.
Stress is stressful. It stresses me out to be stressed.
It is distressing when we go through so much stress.
I wonder what life would be like with no stress-
Dead, asleep, dull, unexciting. Life is stressful.
We love life, so we must love stress, right?
It is a necessary part of life. For every action there
is a reaction. The opposite of stress is inactivity,
no interaction, and BOREDOM.