Best Mere Poems
Oft Woe Is Sorrows, Of Mere Mortal Men
Of fine artist brush and true poet's pen
oft woe is sorrows, of mere mortal men.
Tho' great the powers, sun's glow in blue skies
majestic the beauty, in dawns bright rise.
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
What verse can such magnificence reveal
more so than inked truth that searching poets feel.
From revelations of heart's deep desires
to blazing flames of romantic fires.
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
Dare we beg our muse, cast unto us more
of immense depths from which others did score.
Gift hearts, souls and minds creativity
or beauty even in versed brevity?
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
What of importance of the sad and black
do we ignore from courage we may lack.
Nay! Ours is to set truth on its gold throne
tho, on that journey we may trek alone.
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
When begging paper, cries for new black ink
of course from both heart and mind we must think.
And with purpose write to all, as a gift
Life, Love, Inspiration that so uplifts.
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
Under Nature's blue skies that beg our praise
dare we give verse light, to cut world's dark haze.
Endeavor to create what time will note
with blessings, take great pride in what we wrote?
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
Robert J. Lindley, 6-12-2019
Rhyme, ( A Poet's Heart Must Accept Its Truest Calling )
Categories:
mere, appreciation, art, assonance, creation,
Form:
Rhyme
I Am Mortal Man, Made Of Mere Flesh And Bone
Sad and lost soul walked in his old worn shoes,
dark clouds covered his bowed and forlorn head.
Life had beat him hard, made him pay heavy dues,
cast jagged stones into his every night's bed.
He looking back at all his dear family now gone,
his broken soul cried- God release me please.
I am mortal man, made of mere flesh and bone,
my every path hard, nothing comes with gentle ease
Yet the spirit was strong and his heart held dreams,
hope that another day would great blessings bring.
Each night's prayer he found new flowing streams,
such that morn's new light made his joy sing
As each day brought its bricks and falling stones,
Hope, his greatest shield, prevented any broken bones.
Robert J. Lindley, 4-15-2016
Dedicated to all my friends here that give me hope each day.
Hope that life will give future blessings and my family will
be well and safe when I am gone.
Categories:
mere, age, angel, art, beautiful,
Form:
Sonnet
Katelyn Kirkconnell
4-20-17
Mère
The way she combs her fingers through her hair is captivating;
She always checks herself in the mirror before work to make sure her hair’s align and makeup’s ideal.
She couldn’t go one day without my palm in hers;
The way our skin brushes against one another's like a paintbrush gliding across a canvas makes her piercing, blue eyes glisten with joy.
I could never be like my mother;
Her effigy floats above my head, for she is poised.
She’s never able to confide in anyone else because her soulmate made her think otherwise.
Oh, but my mother lives her life off independency.
Whether or not she has her one true love to awe at her beauty or to reply with “i love you too”.
Altruism is what she’s always taught me.
Self-love is nothing but a void to me because I care about the disapproval of these mortals surrounding me.
Yet, she doesn’t, she never will.
An optimist, she is,
But I...I could never be like my mother.
Categories:
mere, care, for her, i
Form:
Free verse
^^^^^
My people are the Ojibwa, fierce and strong,
a people of stories and myths and knowledge;
on birch bark scrolls and stones their history told,
and I, a mere Ojibwa girl, write stories . . .
There, upon a sheer and rocky cliff the Appaloosa horse
of many colors stands majestic.
There, under the blazing blue sky an Ojibwa warrior
looks at me with great love.
There, in the air and wind that roars.
his feathers earned in acts of bravery quietly move.
There, nestled in his strong arms
my turquoise and glass beaded dress sparkles in the sun.
There, below the Ottawa River thunders
and the vast lands of Canada stretch to the horizon.
There, above in that perfect sky
eagles soar together as a symbol of Ojibwa unity.
There, the only sound is the wind that moves his feathers.
______________________
May 24, 2013
Poetry/Free Verse/A Mere Ojibwe Girl
Copyright Protected, ID 13-1072-902-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Mid October 2018
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
Categories:
mere, native american,
Form:
Free verse
The CRY OF A KENYAN.
Rihanna talks of The New America
American Oxygen
It seems same for poor Kenya
Our one and only treasure
Drowning in the dark
Driven by cartels of no concern
No care for the next generation.
And here's my plead.
Am lost within a nation
No name no trace
No location no possession
No government but govern men
No freedom but free doom
Threats are the new proverbs
New slogans taking over,
(guilty till proven rich)
Corruption a current chess game
Leadership now a business gap
Leaders being Board Members
Cabinet being the shareholders
I wonder if we are the debtors
No say, since the burden is too big.
Am tired, torn, worn and tortured for my silence
Enough, if the flowing blood
Enough of the illegal lands
Enough of the assassinations
Coz Kenya is now more less Hollywood.
A crew hired to act the movie
The happenings seem dreams
All like fiction in The Originals.
The only fact, that time is passing
No longer can we entrust our lives on the government
No longer can we express out freely
No longer are our cases ruled with justice
Cases clog in the courts.
No longer can even prayers shaken their utter
No longer do they fear the Supreme One
But in churches, all different
Sited like an innocent infant
Faked sorrows while praying
All aiming to win our trust
Let's standout,Kenyans for Kenya
Let's open up eyes, and stop being fooled
Let's stop falling on their knees like slaves
A fact,they are meant to be our servants
But act like we are theirs slaves
Some lie to be fighting for us
But are after the seat, to grab the cheques
Wanting the privileges and Excellency
Let's stand for our poor Kenyans
Say No to their treachery
A New Kenya, me and you. — thinking about Kenya.
courtesy of Kagz de falsa as at 10/06/2016
Categories:
mere, africa, community, corruption, courage,
Form:
Narrative
Le Jardin De Ma Mere.
A frayed straw hat protecting silvery grey,
my mother got outside today!
Yellow, green, and white, her garden daisies smiled happy and bright.
I'll pick some for her, but never all.
Ma mere dit, "They are so
"fragrant,
pretty,
tall"
"Would you fill the vase in the hall?" "Oui" "Merci"
Her home, a place she could once roam alone, is now surrounded
by a daisy wreath,
her garden beauty and peace.
"A Whip-poor-will, bumble bugs, my garden feels like nature hugs"
A smile gently lights her face,
"You know this is my happy place" "Oui, ma mere"
Mais, mother tires easily. She is sick, you'd never know. She doesn't let
her pain show.
The captain of her chair, a blue pillow always resting there, hiding a tiny
tear.
"Forget me not" she whispers.
"Mother, your other favorite bloom, I can assume?"
I wheel her to her room.
She smiles at her grand bouquet.
It brought happiness inside today. "Merci, ma fille"
Ma mere me dit, "They are so
"fragrant,
pretty,
tall, in my garden I have it all"
"Merci mon amour.
"You're welcome Mother, J'adore"
Categories:
mere, beauty, caregiving, daffodils, devotion,
Form:
Rhyme
I was a mere lad of ten living on a prairie farm in Hoosier land,
Roaming the fields in my old straw hat, barefoot, carefree and tanned.
My faithful dog, Spooks, was always with me chasing rabbits,
(And rabbits were very plentiful due to their prolific habits!)
We had no inside facilities such as running water or a bath.
Our privy, as it was called, was located at the end of a winding path!
A Saturday night ritual was taking a sitz bath in a metal washing tub,
Then we'd pile in Dad's '35 Dodge and head for town after my scrub.
There was no TV in those days and my ears were glued to the radio,
Following the adventures of my heroes, filtered through static-filled audio!
I spent my meager allowance buying model planes and crafting the things.
Dozens hung from the ceiling of my room floating on gossamer wings.
I used a supple willow branch for a rod and a safety pin for a hook,
Angling for crawdads and wily crappie in the cool and flowing brook.
The Great Depression was ending way back then when I was ten.
Alas, World War Two began and things were never the same again.
On languid summer afternoons on a limb of the old oak tree I'd stretch,
And watch the scudding clouds as boyhood dreams I'd sketch.
Those were some of the things I did way back then when I was ten.
I'm four score and five now, but how I cherish memories of way back then!
Entry for Kelly Deschler's "Way Back When I Was Ten" Contest
Categories:
mere, childhood,
Form:
Rhyme
nnam, where's that tree
at the centre of the clan?
o, what happened to the people's iroko?
where're my people's hope?
the voice of my clan
the famous tongue that came
like the griot of my niger
and stood firm, astute, echoing
the drums of my masters
the ancestors, my ancients –
nnam, did you say
the sacred tree’s fallen?
what mysteries in our times
what miseries are coming
upon the once famed clan –
did oke nmadu, the great man
go with the drum of the clan?
aru eme-e, evil has come
mere anarchy’s let loose
upon the clan –
let the ancients
remember their clan!
Categories:
mere, depression,
Form:
We Are But A Mere Blink
This blue marble spins like a top
ever forward in time, never stop
Yesterday was a picture so long ago
a bloody river in epic timeless flow
Yet we could never give up our past
memory serves to make love everlast
Time is so like a never ending tree
life never lasts and nothing is free
Life measured by the beats of a heart
future seen looking back at the start
Flesh wraps the soul so hidden within
time erases all that has ever been
This blue marble exists for just a mere blink
Mankind lasts forever, or so WE arrogantly think!
Robert J. Lindley , 08-12-2014
note:
According to research, the universe is approximately
13.8 billion years old.
Scientists think that the Earth is 4.54 billion years old.
Mankind may be as old as 7 million years.
Most scientists would reply that modern Man probably
appeared around 100,000 years ago, the culmination of
a long-drawn process of Darwinian evolution which begun
several million years ago.
Compare 100,000 years against 13,800,000,000 years!
We are a blink....
Categories:
mere, creation, earth, space, time,
Form:
Sonnet
tiny kiss with hugs
soars an old heart to great heights
a child is amazing…
so careful they love;
everyone and everything.
extravagant smiles;
little minds that never sleep,
big hearts that remain vigil.
happiness is small
enough to carry and hold
precious little child…
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Categories:
mere, happiness
Form:
Haiku
It’s another school day and it’s another panic attack
I see my old best friends nails digging in her boyfriend’s back
Recalling bathroom braids and kitchen raids
Experimental aide, sharing shitty grades
Now she’s trying hard to look great
Even though I’d love her all the same
Without that stupid fake **** on her face
her childhood lips are caught in a mid-ice cream sundae
My body sits across and there goes a decade
My will decays
The more I think
It’s another Saturday and more heavy make out sessions
I hold a plastic knife to my throat
And play pretend just to get a reaction
You wrapped my arm
You said my name
More false alarms
Then walked away
And that pissed me off
There’s no one else to blame
I will decay
The more i’m awake
Categories:
mere, mirror,
Form:
If music were but, mere dreams
What a bitter sorrowful waste this would be
Thus shadows, and to play a note
A meager reminder of a world without hope
Nexus of the heart blacker than grayer
Taste, loveless sapor than savor
Flowers wilt and will not, then they wither die
Laughter ends forthwith when only moments survive
Unmoving, undefining, joyous tears unwept, and never drying
Nor celebrations of song and dance relive or reviving
Simple songbirds mimic miming melancholy silent
Winds untheraputic cease, trees untickled lie dormant
That’s why I'm grateful for musical spiritual gifts
Through melodies, how Christ inspires and uplifts
Yes, if music were but, mere dreams
Then all of us sleepwalkers, a soul nonexistent, zombies in another reality
Categories:
mere, hope, imagination, music, music,
Form:
Rhyme
I was put on this planet
with a mission to accomplish,
and enthusiasm is my reason to exist;
I take nothing in stride...
not keeping watch on my enemy,
and try to live peacefully...
knowing that I will die
without a grudge on my sigh!
Is that a mere coincidence
that I follow in the footsteps
of the few who lived for peace and liberty,
and rejected glory for modesty?
Mockery wasn't a cause
for their dire or distress...
to dissuade them from anything
they had said; there was no wall dividing words
from action,to distort their meaning,
because they were loud and clear!
I dont simulate or imitate the monarch,
and please the well-to-do
who dress lavishly and have a lot:
my living is a simple song...
a harmony with a beautiful sound;
I show pity, and I'm never cruel!
They stare at me, as if I weren't stately...
only cursed with stark poverty;
I don't deny my hunger...a hunger
for different values that stand fast:
I am guided by the starlight,never stagger
or fail to take my stand!
I'm realistic and defined by grace...
to imagine it a mere coincidence:
to have come into existence,
and not fit in any social system
which demands to honor its hypocritical anthem!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
mere, social
Form:
Burlesque
A Mere Diatribe
A mere diatribe,
Which is full of silly words;
Where should I start next?
James Thomas Horn
Retired Soldier and Poet
Categories:
mere, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Haiku
My lady and her unborn child I'd borne
to this small town, where door to door they went
in search of some place they might stay till morn.
At last, to this small stable they were sent.
Though worried, they were very good to me.
My lady was in pain. I heard her moan
while Joseph knelt beside her tenderly
to wipe her brow; a star above them shone.
I looked up and could see it getting bright,
then brighter when she gave birth to her son!
Some shepherds came; it was a wondrous sight.
I heard them say He was the chosen one
of whom the angels sang in skies above!
Mere creature that I am, I felt pure love.
(I am the donkey, by the way, in case I needed to name the animal!)
Written November 2015 for the Christmas With Christ Poetry Contest of Isaiah Zerbst
Categories:
mere, christian, christmas,
Form:
Sonnet