Best Missteps Poems
If you could paint a picture of silence
What color would it be?
Would you use a brush to paint the fog
in shades of gray, a touch of brown
to hush the season from all sound?
Would eaves be dripping to the ground
while windows weep with quiet tears
Where solitude has blurred the view
in states of lonely winter-lude?
Would silence be a shade of green
A forest deep, a muted scene
No sound to scatter birds from trees
No broken branch, or swaying grass
Missteps that crackle the fallen leaves
Untouched by clatter, harsh and rude?
Would silence be as black as night
A cave too deep for shards of light
A void within a famished core
A well of dark and empty shores?
Or would silence be of many hues?
A rainbow shade of morning dew
A soft pastel of sun declining?
No bedlam, blast or blare of noise
Could break the spell, a silent voice
As if the soul could slip away....
A hush, immense.....so sweet and keen,
Like ghosts unseen, or angels soft as air...
A silent sea, ....where mountains lend an ear
As clouds pile high, ....and wait to hear...
Only for this: such peace....such bliss
A sound so small, ... as welcome as a sigh
Categories:
missteps, imagination, morning, sound,
Form:
Free verse
I hear the voices you once bequeathed to me
Enchanting concert music in symphony of love
But I left the theater before the show was over
Walking all alone in the missteps of contempt,
Endorsing the reticence of unspoken words.
Deep in my psyche these memories now reside
Where devoid of fond smiles, blossoms have dried.
As I refuse to accept that I’ve lost you forever
Echoes of outcry from the unsung emotions
Poignantly evoke the saddest lines of discourse
In conversations espousing laments of my soul,
Within backstreets of mind amid chaos of thoughts
Having lost directions to dreamlands of the past,
For I refused the promise in winter’s goodbye
And rejected fiery passions of autumnal vibes,
As I squashed the dreams in flights of monarchs—
Never kissing fragrant lips of doting ambrosia.
Though you guided me through twilight of romance
I struggled in ineptitude of lovesick night of dark—
Oh, how I missed my mark beneath the northern star!
As my storm keeps churning, hosting a cyclone,
The rivers, once calm, have flooded my crops
And gusty winds ravaged dismantling my farm
And tall weeds have now occupied my sidewalks,
As dissonance of our love remorsefully squalls
Within indecisive nomenclature of my timid heart.
September 25, 2019
Placed 1st: In the backstreets of my mind poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Placed 3rd: Strand select C contest by Brian Strand
Categories:
missteps, love hurts,
Form:
Free verse
Desire strong as the concrete beneath my feet
Missteps hinder my stride along a winding course
Signs clearly marked "Proceed With Caution"
Muscles scream to try something new
Never knowing what direction to turn
Exhausted I throw caution to the wind
Gasping in the air with trepidation
Running as fast and as far as I can
I seize the opportunity to test my endurance
Is it a marathon or merely a sprint this course I am on
I won't let it be a dead end, I won't submit
I will have my answer, I will reach my destination
Categories:
missteps, destiny, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
I’d like to pretend that my hands aren’t dirty
from the soap of mental suppression,
that the callouses are from hard work,
and not from picking my bones back up
off the floor on a daily basis;
ragged, dry, and weary.
Every fairy tale has a root,
stapled into the hard soil of truth.
They all have a moral,
some sort of clerical error
born from life’s shadow.
We watch, hoping to learn
from the missteps of someone
else’s intrepid imagination,
some 4D revelation singing
lullabies to the young heart
of humanity.
And they bend to the fickle
will of greedy creativity,
making the yoke less bitter
so that we can tongue the purge
of denial without pouting.
I’d like to pretend that my hands are clean,
that I don’t whisper cold lies into your palms,
watch you drink from the frosted glass
of my sincerity; Hope that you don’t blink,
that you won’t notice the blood bubbling
up, and over my shiver before you finally
finish this story.
I just want you to understand.
This isn’t poison.
This is merely me bleeding out,
and hoping you’ll learn to love the
taste of fire kissed oxymoronic metaphors,
served up with juiced will and the vegan
flesh of my inhibition.
So that you can see through my eyes,
know where I have been,
and how it felt to be consumed.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Categories:
missteps, imagery, introspection, life, memory,
Form:
Free verse
I whisked the heavens for a soothing sign
Swirled moonlight of Luna’s crescent smile
Searching for redemption's last sinew
That a wounded love faithfully clings to
I asked the stars for strength of sterling sight
To illuminate the missteps of a fractured mind
Trapped in a glass garden of Eden’s broken heart
Fragrant pieces of her sorrow carved into mine
I tasted the poison of regurgitated resolve
Memories marinating on the tip of my teething tongue
But forgiveness does not dangle on unspoken words
Which need not be poetic, but merely heard
Categories:
missteps, forgiveness, introspection, love,
Form:
Narrative
Circadian Wobble
Circadian tripped through a trap door
Into amended reality of light and time
Where confusion missteps through the waltz of the hours,
And intervals of minutes
Glare at each other suddenly plucked out of place
Leaping into a space reserved for colleagues,
Renamed without their permission,
Here circadian wobbles in an new identity assumed
Where dawn rises in darkness -
Dusk becomes twilight –
When the morning star collides
With alpenglow
And sleep eludes the routine of dreamers
Rhythm disrupted –
Gone the orderly synchronized ballet of hours,
In their birth space,
Minutes running early
Gazing into prophetic confusion
Back to days to come
Déjà vu unpacked
Staggering in crunchy seconds of DLSD
Sunlight confused by second hands
Not knowing their place
In the Circadian scheme or on the face of eternity’s timepiece
A standoff in the litany of changing light
That lingers just a little longer in the cycle of day and night
Surrealist creation longing to hold onto light
Until the globe turns its face into the season
When time and light re-align.
DLSD – Daylight Savings Time Disorder
3-17-21
Contest: Inner Alignment
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Categories:
missteps, light, time,
Form:
Free verse
The mind of man defines his self
Thought separates him from the beast.
For rationale transcends all else
So with reason was man bequeathed?
Nature adjusts its balanced scales
Predators thrive upon their prey
Quarry decays in mankind’s trail
While intellects cloth, does sadly fray.
Conceit within sees simple creatures
Instincts supply for lowly needs.
Hunter, hunted, duelling features
Equal basics provide life’s creed.
Assuming nature has mans own evil
Perceptions mirror his within.
No other beast shall cause Earths’ upheaval
‘Twas humanity first committed sin.
Smart man can plan tomorrow’s time
Consciousness learns from lessons past.
Hear and heed are two peaks to climb
Strides from missteps are often last.
Meek swallows will defend their nest
Grace transforms toward obstinacy
But repose rewards a fruitful quest.
Vengeance just grasps humanity.
It’s man that fights a thousand wars
Pleas to ignorance seldom thrive.
Nature’s pursuits have righteous core
A pair for death means life survives.
The mind’s a mask of cunning guise
For closed minds, know not how they feast.
Heavy footsteps can cause demise
And what sets man, apart from beast?
Categories:
missteps, analogy, angst, environment, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
T i me
I’m a mistress to your fleeting cycles,
constantly constricting,
russet-deep pupils
that see the maroon rain~
veiled in honey and turmeric flames…
Today I lift my hands
in s i l e n c e
to spin pearls of prayers
from
strings of patience...
for I am my Sun’s~
your maternal daffodil
singing songs of solace
as you rise~
facing the unknown
nestled on the cusp of summer storms,
while the sky wears dazzling dreams
and answers you seek,
tensed amidst the tourmaline
twinkling along
the trail of thought…
Yet I hope
you'll trace seraphic streaks,
oblivious to the material mists.
Life goes beyond ink on paper~
calculating missteps,
evaluating errors.
We are more than specks of
sand and stardust,
sailing through streams
of lessons learned,
awaiting the return of winged comets~
for we are sleep-waltzing
through this sphere,
and to the angels,
we shall
r e s u me
So let the frost of fears
and icy embers of terrors
thaw and melt,
rippling in waves of wisdom.
For you are more than a
prisoner to pages
of unresolved equations.
You are the constant, the sum,
the ultimate key to the paradox.
Remember~
my love for you
weighs heavier than
trinkets and treasures…
You are~
the rhyme to my sonnet,
the reason to my rhythm,
the muse that prompts me,
and I breathe,
and I live
to be your
twilight
when the world
forgets that
you
are
an ethereal star,
brighter than the rosiest dawns.
Categories:
missteps, muse, son,
Form:
Free verse
A tear
a flood of emotion
a salty cleansing
of mistakes and missteps;
a weeping in anticipation
an ocean tide of mourning
the ebb and flow of living
and dying to existence.
Categories:
missteps, angst,
Form:
Blank verse
Thank you, God, for everything,
especially, giving life to me,
and thank you for these thoughts of mine
the hills I climb, and dreams.
Thank you for the sky and stars,
planets, asteroids, and moons,
the air we breathe, two eyes to see,
and rose gardens in full bloom.
With butterflies and dragonflies
and birds of every kind,
for ants and worms and even germs
you once brought forth, designed.
Thank you for the grass, trees and whispering breeze,
that cools our skin and bones,
for water, seas and bats and bees,
and our families, friends, and homes.
And thank you for the times we share,
including broken hearts and pain,
with all the lessons we deserve
for our missteps, mistakes, and shame.
From exercising our free will
you gave us from the start,
and thanks for the undeserved grace,
you lovingly impart.
And thank you for our hearts and souls
that make each of us unique,
for ears to hear, hands to hold,
and our lips and tongues to speak.
Thank you for the seasons,
winter, spring, summer, fall,
for boys that like to run and hide,
and little girls with baby dolls.
For teachers, preachers, moms, and dads,
doctors, nurses, and cops,
for truck drivers, ranchers, and farmers,
and all their animals, fields, and crops.
For history, time, and words that rhyme,
and all the knowledge we've attained,
about science, math, and our planets past,
and for snow, ice, fire, and rain.
And thank you God for being,
Our Creator and Love unfurled,
and allowing me yet one more day
to seek and find you in this world.
Categories:
missteps, appreciation, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Facing the Future
By: Tom Wright
8/1/2018
The place we’re presently found will be scant,
And our future is about unknown change,
That might, or might not, enchant.
But yesterday will always remain the same,
And learning to accept what is and will be,
Is a most important part of the game?
Our missteps had effect on each of the three,
God wants us to let go of what was,
And exercise more faith in what will be.
Categories:
missteps, future,
Form:
To my Dad...
If I could travel to and fro
The winds of change would meekly blow
And Heaven's Gate, that opened wide
Would stay shut tight, Dad at my side
Our campfires, when the firelight danced
You'd find me safe,
wrapped in your glance
Upon this path, which trail to take
Close by my side, clear choice you'd make
And when the future seems forlorn
You'll summon Angels, squash the storm
Missteps, success, I know your here
Your steady hand "jamesy!" your cheer!
On down the road, around the bend
I know you're there!
Dear Dad,
My friend!
09/20/13
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
missteps, dad,
Form:
Couplet
He’s gained an audience over the past few years.
Colluding with his missteps and his demons.
Shining a bright light, center mass.
Waiting for applause.
So proud of the spectacle he’s tied
together with sinew and charred hearts.
He chuckles as his puppets squirm.
Promises immortality for such a small
price. What is a soul anyway?
But blood is pouring in from stage left.
Skeletons drumfire, and pile over
the catwalk.
He’s still smiling.
Perspiration falls from a brow intent on
not furrowing.
He’s shown his teeth to a crowd that
now knows why he’s put so much
effort into making tragedy into comedy.
The spotlight crackles.
And he can see the crowd.
Faces scoured by truth.
Nobody is laughing.
The seats are empty.
But the stage is brimming.
The edged remains of his
crooked dreams huddle closer.
The cold crimson fills his lungs.
The gurgling - drowning laughter.
He prays for curtains.
-James Kelley 2019
Categories:
missteps, deep, depression, horror, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
It's like being thrown into a dance,
without even knowing the steps.
It is your one and only chance,
so you curse all of your missteps.
Your heart beats out of your chest.
As your resilience is put to the test.
Categories:
missteps, dance,
Form:
Free verse
The mind of man defines his self
Thought separates him from the beast.
For rationale transcends all else
So with reason was man bequeathed?
Nature adjusts its balanced scales
Predators thrive upon their prey.
Quarry decays in mankind’s trail
Intellects cloth will sadly fray.
Conceit sees but simple creatures
Instincts supply for lowly needs.
Hunter, hunted, duelling features
Equal basics provide life’s creed.
Man that looks finds natures evils
Perceptions mirror his within.
No beast shall cause earths upheavals
Just man will oblige earthly sin.
Smart man can plan tomorrow’s time
Consciousness learns from lessons past.
Hear and heed are two peaks to climb
Strides from missteps are often last.
Meek swallows will defend their nest
Grace transforms to obstinacy,
But repose rewards a fruitful quest.
Vengeance just grasps humanity.
It’s man thats fought a thousand wars
Pleas to ignorance seldom thrive.
Nature’s pursuits have righteous core
A match for death means life survives.
The mind’s a mask of cunning guise
For closed minds, know not how they feast.
Heavy footsteps will cause demise,
and what sets man apart from beast?
Categories:
missteps, humanity, introspection, philosophy,
Form:
Quatrain