Best Molehill Poems


As I Began To Understand Virginia Woolf

as i began to understand Virginia Woolf
her voice from a room of her own
i realized i was upon a mountain
she had exposed the molehill it was
the dirt soon revealed a tunnel
entering it opened a new horizon
where i finally fully grasped the world
surrounding Jane Austen
in that moment the mist upon the horizon
disappeared and i could finally grasp
her words between the lines
denied a seat upon the Parthenon
forbidden attending The School of Athens
she displays the truth about her gender
that soft restraint we find in mother
its wisdom resplendent
in that hardened fist of reality
covered in a glove of soft lamb
we forgive ignorance
or become yet another in the mirror
who denies the freedom the world
breathes in every breath
the child's first cry
should echo, i am born free
deserving a room of my own
all warrant the miracle life is
nascent in the gratitude within

   OKC   6/22

Resurrection of Love

I live to love you my 'Love'
I breathe to keep you alive,
I smile to see you ebullient,
I talk to keep you thrive.

Hence I see you drowning to death,
The worries have become thy controller,
You are levitating out of agonies,
See, I'm the same love that you used to call 'flower'!

Still the fragrance is the same, 
O Love! Recall closing your eyes those days..
The meaning of life was 'Me' to you, 
I fancy, I see clearly that then YOU!

Thy admiration made me butterfly,
Bearing more colours than they highly could ever gather.
The charm of life I got from your songs,
That denoted chords when you touched my bangles.

Are the practicalities mightier than your love my Soul? 
Can they really fight back to your mighty will?
Hath your fear mounted its peak for thy enemy? 
To surpass the love-mountain where we built our love territory?

Honey, I'm just here, beside you just feel,
Trying to back you to hope, please chill!
Leave the agonies to be blown away,
We'll make the mountain of happiness out of molehill!

Where you will see 
Only you, only me.
Form: Canzone

What Keeps Me In the Race

I can still recall the past,
replete with wounded memories;
questions and issues spilled over
and beyond those bounds which made me down.

They may be deep in reality
but, they taught me how to be strong and faithful.
for they’re means to metaphorical connections
that my journey must go on.

Those twists and turns that life takes me
those trials and tribulations that come along
they’re experiences that define myself
like the Latin phrase,”ad viros faciendos’. 

When things get tough as I tread through,
I grapple and decide what to do.
The flurry of choice enables me
to remain unscathed and be true.

Individual road on a different path
takes me often to the world of parochial life.

More relationship to form and define
like a gift, a historical occurrence;
that bring new insights to my life.

During those moments of difficulties
I ask the grace to savor the taste of my afflictions.
though I may be weak and bogged down
at least I’m not making a mountain out of a molehill.
Form: Pastoral


And Jill Came Tumbling Down

Then there was this big girl called Jill
Who yearned to be seduced by big Bill
She laid herself on the ground
And to her horror she found
She’d made a huge mountain out of the molehill
Form: Limerick

More Somewhat Twisted Thoughts of the Day

I made a wish upon a star and really got burned
I made a wish upon a star and left Madonna breathless
I hitched my wagon to a star but forgot my spacesuit
The stars in my eyes turned out to be black holes

I couldn’t rise to the occasion so I took some Viagra
Did Harvey Wall Banger? Nope, Willy-Nilly slapped him silly
I once had sex on a golf course but wasn’t up to par and got penalized three strokes
A sex therapist counseled a maggot couple to make love in Earnest

I decided to take a brisk walk but there was this plank…
I WALKED that plank but they drained the pool so I cracked up
I walked the line and it was a very thin line (A very fine line though)
I walked the straight and narrow and had to stop for directions

I made a molehill out of a mountain and the EPA was NOT amused
I made another molehill out of a mountain and the CLIMBERS were not amused
I made ANOTHER mole hill out of a mountain but some mole dug up some dirt on me
I was shamed when the scandal was published in The Holey-Moley Enquirer
So I dug up some dirt on THEM and completely ruined my manicure…

If life is a rat race, God needs to set out some traps
Life was a bowl of cherries til I cracked my tooth on a pit
Speaking of pits, I escaped The Pit and the Pendulum but (Oh, rats)
Speaking of rodents, three-blind-mice ran into a herd of stampeding lemmings and quickly took the plunge…

Premium Member Unnoticed 2

I sit and watch
Contentment seizes --
Magic happens


Pathways within
An unseen mind --
Manipulates madness


Logic questions sense
Molehill reservations --
Rapture says nothing


Re-discover pulse
In tired ways --
Let zest escalate


Time comes and goes
Breezy as the zephyr --
Cool tonic water


Opinions stacked
Feedback confronted --
Cynic attending


Islands apart
Sun-tan lotion --
SPF 100


Conflict and pain
Raw nerves mangled --
Sanguine refrains


Word for word
Not much to say --
Only haphazard itch


Cross road signage
Beware of traffic --
In all directions!


Wet market scene
Buying and selling --
Brisk business attends


Sometimes
Life consigns each --
Unnoticed dash


Good book
In small hands --
Reading preferred


Small talk
Short quirky lines --
Brief salvation


Change of mind
Strange affair --
Rites of passage


Leon Enriquez
06 June 2014
Singapore
Form: Haiku


Premium Member Mountains and Molehills

From all outward appearances
  It seemed they were having a lovely evening
  But as soon as they got home
   She started seething

  She accused him of being too friendly with the waitress
   He said "I was just being polite"
     She said he was a liar
   and he said , "Yeah right"

 She said "You're sleeping on the couch"
     He said she was making a mountain out of a molehill
   She slammed the door
     In the morning they'll make up still
 Until he leaves the toilet seat up
      Then they'll start all over again
© Joseph May  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Songs of Power

Though you call me molehill,
Still I shall attain my height.
The more refuse you deposit 
The higher and mightier I become.

So when you blow up your dust
Or sling your wicked mud
And in your joy on me they sediment;
Mock me not I do not see mud nor dust
But another layer of  my enviable size.

Your garbage is by no means hurdle,
It is the thrust to my destined height.

Songs of power,
Something inside so strong.
8/11/2015.

Premium Member The Table Is Yours

*Image of God Smiles by Pixabay.

The Table is Yours

I glide between spoons filled with surprises,
determined to make the best of my fill,
in this manner, I think claiming prizes.

So slight I take, before greed rob sizes,
breeds avarice, made by my tales, instill
I glide between spoons filled with surprises,

I treat my table for none, chastises,
scorn bugs cheer, I use, superior skill,
in this manner, I think claiming prizes.

My views are all mine, other surmises,
Live whole, die happy, and I am uphill,
I glide between spoons filled with surprises,

I chose my independence; it rises,
some ills my mood, nothing changes, free will,
in this manner, I think claiming prizes.

My metaphors used spell true life guises,
My mountain I fit into a molehill,
I glide between spoons filled with surprises,
in this manner, I think claiming prizes.

2022 August 03
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Mean Is Meaningless

Mean is meaningless, 
has not 
it’s meaning here, I 
proclaim  
without which he will 
die and rot
lest it my cruel beast
shall tame

forked tongue speaks only
violence
doomed fate  by kind word or
 belief
extinguish and stake claim it’s’ 
silence
turning peaceful over 
new leaf

no value rendered is 
but nil  
his only power I 
assign
I’ll mount him not from 
molehill
to him mind’s peace do I 
resign

Intention does define 
one’s deed
bearing fruitless vine, Mean 
does sow
may I not gossip, bear 
this seed
bless, in you that, Mean’s seed 
not grow

tolerance of Mean, I
refuse
wish words reflect my kind 
intent
this world may we all then 
infuse
Same song, sung again, 
and sent

we know not what harm we 
may cause
with cruel intentions’ turn 
of phrase
might words break tender heart 
because
we mend words, yet mend not, 
our ways
Form: Quatern

The Collection and Irrigation of Navel Dander

Depends on what shirt I've been wearing
The colour, the texture and pile
I may get a mountain or molehill
I know either way it smells vile
My navel resembles a cauldron
A mixture of cottons and fluff
And each time I dip in my finger
It comes back all covered in stuff
And after a dig I can't help but
sniff what my digit produced
I've tried and I've tried to quit it
I give up, this quitting's no use
The button I've got on my belly
designed for a rummage and pick
a haven for my tummy boogies
I bet now you're feeling quite sick.


14th September 2011
Form: Rhyme

7g Mic

"
     " 7g mic"


Brown dirt on my head now
Soul done left this earth now


I guess I'm blessed and I don't deserve to be walking around its just a circus here
Well I keep my focus here.
I hope I get to speak with her
Maybe I will see her, maybe I will never see her its all the same to me.

I could never believe in more than what I lived in
I got treasure that's buried in heaven.

Where my heart is that's where my treasure is
God please make me a better man
I'm pouring out my soul and I'm trying to do better man every time I think about the letter
Man. that they 'll be sending me if I don't make it to 
Hill County for the child support court.

They will find me,they will put my ass in jail just to remind me 
They got the power Satan is behind them
They say we are under God but I can't find him and the legislature and the senators
All they do is try do is be my mentor.
And the president he's nothing but and excuse to Mr
Yeah he's black but he never used to be 
When he was a kid he played with the white kids grew up 
And thought he was still white still why do you think I'm white still
Why do you think I still fight still even when this Life is right still
And I'm waking up and walking on water, believing in more than just my daughter 
Turning another mountain into a molehill
Form: Blitz

Premium Member Essentially

Listen now
Your heart speaks
Soft whispers

Listen here
Your heart knows
Calm hints


A silence fills
Laughter and tears
Punctuate movement


A silence flows
Notice the gap
In between noise


The mind chatters
Unceasingly
Noise feels empty


The mind splinters
Mountain from molehill
Noise feeds ego


The soul sings
Music and magic
Rapture thrills


The soul plays
Wind through bamboo
Sighs in birdsong


The world twirls
Swirl of seasons
Devoid of reasons


The world seeks
Praise and plenty
Secure in empty


Time and space pun
Humour greets wit
Steer awkward fit


Leon Enriquez
04 Apr 2014
Singapore
Form: Haiku

Make a Mountain Out of a Molehill

M-ake a mountain out of a molehill
I-n May thirtieth warm day; 
C-ome and treat a trifling matter, 
H-aving a great value in any way.
E-vade belittling the ants, 
L-earn a lesson from them instead; 
L-ook! they can carry bigger things in unity, 
E-ven if they have no king or head.

C-onvert garbage into gold, 
A-void disparaging anyone at will; 
C-reate an asset out of a liability, 
H-ave to make a mountain
O-ut of a molehill.
Form: Acrostic

My Expiry Date's Past

The face in the mirror 
Looks back at me
It’s not a face 
I’m happy to see
It’s withered and aged 
Like a wrinkled old prune
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon

My bones they do creak
Like an old rocking chair
My aches and my pains
Throw me into despair
They can burn my old carcass 
That'll give others more room
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon

My eyes don’t see clearly 
Just a shadowy haze
My precious equipment down under
Has seen better days
I’m a sad lonely soul
And a deaf old buffoon 
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon

My ticker ain’t ticking
The way tickers should
Doc says the plaque in my heart
Is restricting the blood
It’s a sick ticking time bomb
Oh dear I’m full of doom
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon

My plumbing below 
Sounds like an orchestral disaster 
And to get to the washroom
I now need to run faster
Maybe put me down quickly
Then some will be over the moon
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon

I wheeze all day long
My chest feels aflame
The doc in his wisdom 
Says the smokings to blame 
I could not climb a molehill
And I look like a balloon
My expiry date’s past
God, PLEASE let me die soon
© Mike Toole  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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