Best Life Story Poems
I was beaten
With a belt or a hand
Time after time
When I supposedly did wrong
They never warned
Just did
They don't care
So why should I
This is my life story
And I've chosen
Chosen the dark road
They always pushed me
Told me to do my best
But my best was never goo enough
They beat
They yelled
But not once did they ever think
That it would effect me
From 1-13 I have no recollection of happiness
There's a gap of where my memories should be
This is my life story
Cut short
"Who wrote dese legs?" Said Milligan in Puckoon *
As he surveyed his nether limbs with distaste and dismay
While Jessica Rabbit gave the protest of every 'toon' **
"I'm not really bad. It's just that I was drawn this way"
I share Milligan's discontent with legs and other appendages
As I guess do others, save those narcissistically vain
We seek to have some correction and make 'amendages'
Or at least find some creator whom we can blame
So God, while receiving His due credit when we pray
May be on the receiving end of much lamentation
"Oh why did you give me such faults? why make me this way?
If only you'd done better job in my creation"
Then since it's not our fault, but the way we were drawn
It's not fair! Therefore those better sketched must make reparation
Thus comes about entitlement; enforced welfare is born
Correcting errors? Or just causing more enervation
But in life's dramas do we not each play some role
Maybe having some choice of the part and in writing the script
With a character choosing a purpose, determining a goal
As we stumble through props and scenery and trap-doors tripped
Regardless of who was the author of our book
Whether our lives are our own or in hands of the fates to make hay
The role we have whether hero saint or crook
Determines right now the game that we have to play
Looking to the future if given that I have a voice
In my next life if not made from mud or other dregs
And I have the good fortune to make some personal choice
I will write myself a better pair of legs
Started high school days, with science and math,
Dreaming of becoming an engineer's chosen path,
Time flew by, engineering degree achieved,
No time for novels or poems, I believed.
Limited vocabulary, science fiction in my hand,
Never thought poetry would be part of my plan,
Married life changed, loneliness took hold,
Expressing pain at 60, stories untold.
No syllabus, no foot, no poetic grace,
Yet pain in my heart found its own space,
Love poems flowed, in free verse they danced,
Expressing emotions, life's intricate romance.
Worked as Aerospace scientist for many years,
In the vast expanse, where innovation steers,
Crafting the skies, dreams taking flight,
Navigating realms, reaching new height.
Retired now, from the aerospace domain,
No accolades linger, no applause remains,
The once vibrant mind, now silenced, it seems,
In the quiet retirement, lost in dreams.
As a grandfather now, laughter in the air,
Kids' plays and joy, a love beyond compare,
Penned verses celebrating this beauty,
Yet, loneliness lingers, an unwavering duty.
LIFE STORY
"Who wrote dese legs?" Said Milligan in Puckoon *
He surveyed his nether limbs with distaste and dismay
While Jessica Rabbit gave protest of every 'toon' **
"I'm not really bad. It's just that I was drawn this way"
I share Milligan's discontent with legs and parts that append
As I guess do others, save those narcissistically vain
We seek to have some correction and make amend
Or at least find some creator whom we can blame
But in life's dramas do we not each play some role
Maybe having some choice of the part and in writing the script
With a character choosing a purpose, determining a goal
As we stumble through props and scenery, trap-doors tripped
Regardless of who was the author of our book
Whether lives are our own or in hands of the fates to make hay
The role we have be it hero saint or crook
Determines right now the game that we have to play
Looking to the future if given that I have a voice
In my next life if not made from mud or dregs
And I have the good fortune to make some personal choice
I will write myself a better pair of legs
Well I was born a bouncin' baby boy,
On June 23rd in Danville Illinois. ( Ill-i-noy - the s is silent)
My mom will never forget that special date,
Back in the year of '68.
Another birth in September of '70,
Ending in heart-wrenching tragedy.
My sister would've been my friend and pal,
But she didn't make it through the birth canal.
I would've been her big brother just two years older,
Mom was heart broken - didn't get to hold her.
Trying to write this is making me cry,
I can't stop thinking "Why God? Why?
Why did you take this bundle of love?
Did you need another angel above?
Well something good happened in August '72,
My mom married the only dad I ever knew.
I may not be of his own flesh and blood,
But he still called me "Son" and "Bud".
My dad adopted me and gave me the family name.
He treated us all one and the same.
- Love you mom ! -
- In loving memory of my sister (08/25/1970) also
- In loving memory of my dad (07/08/1947 - 01/16/2005)
I started this poem with the intentions of making it part of a
My Life Story collection of poetry. I'm not sure if I will continue
on with this intention or not. Should I decide to continue on with
My Life Story, the next stage will be concerning my childhood - and
the problems I went through as a young child.
I’d like to tell you a short story of me,
From being important to being alone.
Like when I was in the middle of the stadium,
And I was the one that was thrown.
When I was new, I was clean, I was shiny,
And I held everyone by the hand.
And I was the most important friend to the kids,
My value they could all understand.
I’ve traveled the country so many times,
In pockets, wallets, purses, and back packs.
And I’ve been through every poker machine,
And used in games of blackjack.
I spent years in the bottom of a sealed up coin box,
And under the mat in the car.
And I’ve been in every donation tin,
And in every work office coin jar.
But at last my life of being valued has changed,
I’m out of circulation as of today.
I’m now important in this glass sealed cabinet,
A member of a coin collection forever on display.
Life Story by Peter White My version
(free verse)
I came alive when first heard the beating sound,
The strong pulsing of your heart
Emotions consumed all around
My soul felt anew as if my first new breathe
Awakened into life
Falling in love with you
Memories like flowing tides in oceans waves
Rhythmically moving slowly to a sound in sway
Lifetime of beginnings with no endings
After all I have lived I can breathe again
For there is no one else like you
Brought me to the summit
I thank you for this renewal of my soul
Where I learned of laughter
You gave to me console
Lifetime of beginnings no endings thereafter
Awakened into life
Falling in love with you
Let me tell you a story……..
Nothing new under the sun really.
Happened many times.
Autumn flourished and Christmas was near.
Hark, the bells tolled.
The womanizer discovered love.
Too late.
For now she died much too quick.
Friends rally round.
Especially Lisa, his illegitimate daughter.
All in vain. For now his love is dead.
A year passed.
He stood near a window
as fluffy snow fell gently.
He looked at that set of seashells,
An ivory box and inside his old watch
which she gave him as mementos.
Outside raucous seagulls flew,
a harbinger of further devastating storms.
Yet the worst tempest was in his heart.
Tears fell profusely.
But time flies.
Rapturous Spring is in full swing.
Tranquillity reigns in his heart.
All the family drift
On the boat on the languid lake.
Lisa happy to be with her father,
And his new wife.
He holds his own child with care
Will it be the end of his womanizing?
A white swan glides near.
Euphoric tranquillity reigns.
16 April 2022
Form N - Narrative - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Whispers in the night, longing for your ears
To drown every fear
But the sorrow sleeps with me tonight.
Whispers in the night, saying a bitter prayer,
Gone the summer cheer,
Only cold snow fills me deep inside.
Remembering the fun-filled laughter, the dreams we shared;
Together we made it: built that home of kids and bricks.
Remembering the hurtful wards, the chemo and meds,
That instant you were mine, then reality killed me: us was history.
Whispers in the night, saying our favorite prayers
Seeing you everywhere
Your smell still lives painfully in this house
Whispers in the night: "Oh why not a few more years?"
There is still so much to share!
Nobody to hug and care for life!
Remembering the fun-filled laughter, the dreams we shared
Together we made it: built that home of kids and bricks.
Remembering the hurtful wards, the chemo and meds,
That instant you were mine, then reality killed me: us was history.
All my life is
is a story.
And I get to tell it.
What more grace could one be blessed with?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Days when life doesn't suck feel different than days when it does (do do do do-di-do do)... dontcha know?
my new brother
begins suckling our mother
I drop her sparkly vase
dad looks on menacingly. . .
a nurse brings me ice cream
Our life story, is like a zebra for us,
A black band, a white band, then a big ****,
And in the end, as everybody knows,
Prepare to receive by the hoof the final blow!
Before the world’s foundation, God kept me perfectly in His plan
To be born in His year into a loving family of Asian clan.
Nourishing me in His entrusted home to learn multi-tasked roles
The Lord nurtured my heart, midst frailties, toward great goals.
Authoring my faith, the Saviour offered to me secured relationship
He redeemed my soul, assured me blessed eternal blissful partnership.
Sealed with the Holy Spirit, I’m empowered to exalt His name
Building lives, glorifying the Almighty upon His truth’s flame.
Doing my best by His might as steward and soldier in His kingdom’s infantry.
I’m all set, ‘til death, to serve Christ* Who placed me in His ministry.
*Galatians 2:20 I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.
September 30, 2019
3rd place, "Story of My Life in Ten Lines"
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 10/4/2019.
My children are all grown and have gone to seek their own lives. Since that time on different
occasions, I had two very close friends show me their warts and tell me how they've worn
them since the age of five. They didin't even know each other. I listened very carefully
while
each told all they've tried and how they wished to be rid of them. One of my friends even
cried. And then I told them the story of the Spirit of the Healer Ms Agnes as I held their
hands in mine. When I said, "maybe. Just maybe there's enough of the Spirit of The Healer
Ms Agnes left in there for you too", Not wanting to give false hope I added, "it may not
work
it's been such a long time".
Many moons went by before I saw those two friends again. But the first thing they wanted to
tell me was that they awoke with their warts in their bed and to offer me thanks. "No thanks
goes to me" said I. "It's all the Spirit of The Healer Ms Agnes who comes to make the warts
go away. I am merely a vessel" I said, as I hugged them goodbye.
The End
Copyright © by Scarlett Anderson
I grew up in a normal family,
A story told by different people,
with the same affinity.
Grew along with the same saying,
"The richer gets richer and the poor gets poorer".
Never did I care to look into the latter side,
Never did I weep for those impecunious.
All along I was enticed in the richness,
That never did I know I will fall below.
Then did I know what it felt like,
Being indigent, hungry, thirsty and in solitude.
A light of hope was sent from above,
I gained my strength to fight back,
Not to be enticed in the same richness,
But for those dwelling below just as I was.