Best Muster Up Poems


I See Myself In Her

-For Melissa

She asked me how long does it take to heal
In what time allotment, exactly, will it take
For forgetfulness to become a reoccurrence
A blessing for the haunted
Memories that can be bleached off 
White sundresses put on in order to frolic
On beaches with waves washing away
Each grain of him
How long did it take for you to get over him?
Days? Weeks? A month or two?
Hope shining like a naïve flashlight during the eclipse of hardest times
Beaming on me, waiting for an answer

How could I tell her, honestly, 
That it took me years
To overlook the smallest details of his smile
How he only has one dimple on the right side of his face
The way his hands felt, every line and crevice of his fate
Thought to fit mine perfectly?

How could I tell her, truthfully
That no matter how many times I washed my sheets
I would catch the scent of him at 3:45 am, sometimes
Or hear his faint tapping on my window
When it’s really just, my imagination
That she’ll spend months waiting for him to text her
Call her, email her, think of her
When really he’s lying in bed with another women but she refuses
To believe that it’s over
Or how my heart still aches, just a little
When I hear he asked about me
Or that he can no longer say my name out loud to our mutual friends

Could I muster up the courage to explain to her
That it took me 2 years, 3 months, and 16 days to realize
The ugliness of being pathetic
It was time to rise up and take the lead 
Time to forget all romantic casualties 
It’s only yesterday that I found myself straining to remember
His faults, forgetting the man and only remembering the hero
How could I break her heart for the second time by telling her
The truth?

She stood there patiently waiting for me
To pull a metaphor out of a hat, something poetic
Comforting, beautiful, reassuring
I see myself in her
Wanting people to lie to us to see the Zen in ourselves

It’s like we’re all in the same play with the same roles but different names
It takes time for each actor to fulfill the destiny
Others emphasize while others downplay
Moments in time

The Last Waltz At Dawn

The wind carries in your soft loving jasmine scent 

Is it really you or am I just daydreaming once more?

The sun taps me on my pale shaded shoulder

I turn quickly thinking it is you

Asking for one more moment

One last dance

One more chance at romance

One last goodbye

Laughter and joy echoes through my padded castle

I muster up the energy to carry my lifeless body

over to the balcony window

with all my strength I pull back the white lace curtains

and watch, with a tear in my eye, the happiness

coming from over on the hill

where the children fly kites

and play tag

where we once would picnic

under a moonlit sky

wishing on falling stars

holding hands

listening to heart beats and crickets

dancing to the sounds of our love

learning life's lessons

not worrying about tommorrows

forgetting all about time

my eyes smile and I wonder what ever happened

what happened to you

to us

when did we stop to dream

when did we make life harder than it is

I shuffle back to my desk

pick up that inkless pen

and try to write

a happy ending to the sad song

try to wake

 from the endless nightmare

try to find

a silver lining in the darkened clouds

I try to imagine

there will be hope again

and I promise

I promise I will never give up on us
© Tim Smith  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member To Unwrap Tomorrow

A festered quelling of song

Tasting broths of ritualistic intent
Evermore

Nevermore
Can epiphany’s silent facade
Hold me down
Ever
Again

A war of hellos
Goodbyes
I miss you

“Please, come
Home”

The laughable oddity,
I’ve always been here.

They say home is where the heart is. 

Yet, it soars thru Heaven’s misunderstandings. 

With many peculiar eyes
Tearing in humbled curiosities
And placated heat strokes
Unable to fathom my reach for tomorrow’s message

Life lessons, tuition free,
Unto serenity

Unto serenity,
I awaken into a catharsis for the colors of song
Rather than the backhanded colors of skin

Because our finite heartbeats consist of one rhythm,
One skip
One shade

…

Yet, the time has come, for this heart
To muster up oxygenated infernos
Before I pave incipient paths
Less traveled

Warning
Warning

…

Warning

©Drake J. Eszes – 5/8/2014 (I of III)
“Now something…has kept me here too long. But, they can’t leave me, if I’m already gone.” –R.A.


In the Name of Love

walking through the halls,
eyes on the floor.
the silence breaks once I hear you footsteps,
every step loud and distinct.
my body goes rigid,
sending chills down my spine.
you clear your throat,
as I catch your raspy voice,
all my instincts are alert.
my ears grab onto each and every breath,
my eyes dry and sting,
my mind goes numb,
my heart beats,
faster and faster.
I muster up enough courage to turn towards you.
now my eyes are locked with yours,
even without words I feel agony.
my dry, cracked lips part
as I try to find the right words.
Yet only a dull, almost teary, hello with multiple cracks comes out.
one word to you and I can already see
that you're drowning in apathy.
you let out a hey and 
I can tell that it took every bit of your
energy to say that one word.
yet it isn't what I'm looking for.
over a quarter of a million words in the English language and
I'm looking for only three.
I love you.
my mind dizzies at the thought of them tumbling out of your mouth.
my thought are shattered when you cough,
filling the air with sound once again.
it's hard to hold back, so I don't
I let every tear drop on the floor,
my tears so big and meaningful that they almost splash back.
now I'm a sobbing mess,
an embarrassment to myself.
at least it's all in the name of love.

Learning Through the Struggle

The sun rises yet again,
And with it another battle to begin.
The dark star lit skies has not treated me well,
Torturing my mind with memories of times I fell.

The morning rays chase away the stories of discouragement, 
Leaving only new demons without empathy or sentiment.
These burdens tax my body and weigh heavy on my mind.
Iron clamps of despair keep me in it's bind.

The war rages between loud cries of giving up and the rebel whisper of never.
The trenches leave me beaten and scared, hoping and praying it gets better.
Spilling my heart and soul  through this pen,
Hoping my fractured world  to finally mend.

The blows knock the air out of lungs, stopping the clocks mid-chime.
Emotions streaming down my face as I collapse for the last time.
Is this where I  give up roll over and die?
Has the fuel for my fight finally run dry?

I muster up my last shred of strength an let out a loud cry,
The desperation fills my corpse as my soul reaches for the sky.
I scream at the struggles I can't physically attack,
The growls finally leave my vocal cords torn and taxed.

I retreat to my inner sanctuary to a place where the demons cannot reach.
I listen to courage, faith, hope and all they preach.
They pick me up, dusting me off begging me to try once more.
Return to my reality of bone and blood I am different then before.

These demons clever lies finally become evident fallacies, 
Made up evils of horrid fantasies.
As my hands tremble, knees buckle and my arms feel short of strength, I stand,
I pile up my burdens on my back and set my footing on solid land.

To think this path would be easy was insane,
I now know what it is to know pain.
But through my struggle knowledge I gain.
How to manage the pain and work through the strain.

So I will work those arms, stretch out these legs and open those naive eyes and finally live,
Stand tall without apologies, and without any complaint to give.
Victorious I will be when the final page is read,
For my feet will not stumble again on this path that I tread.

Courage

The music coarses through my veins
As i run down the street
i don't need to look back 
to hear the pounding of the feet

My mind races as i sprint
my lungs struggling to continue
but i hear death come closer
not knowing what to do

i see the glint of metal
as he races after me
not fighting for his honor
it is just blood he wants to see

is this how a hero dies, i ask myself boldly
is this what happens when you refuse to back down
my heart starts to fail, my feet start to slow
with barely enough energy, to turn myself around

All i ever did
was stand up to that school bully
and it may have been the last thing i do
i now understand quite fully

if only i had stepped down
let him spit and walk away
instead, i had to open my mouth
and so the consequences i must now pay

i muster up the courage
puff out my chest and turn 
but instead of feeling steel
i feel a steady burn

for in my frantic flight
i must have stepped down wrong
for after everything I'd done
i knew that it was sprung

i fall down to the pavement
fearing the very end
that school bully who chose to chase me
would soon learn to comprehend

that i stood up for myself
and would not back down now
i fought back the tears
and stood without a sound

i waited and waited and waited
for the bully to fly around the block
i sat back down and teared up,
as i yanked away the sock

the pain that radiated shot
through my leg and through my bones
anyone one could tell 
from the screeching of my tone

i hobbled to the bus stop
picking out the broken glass
the blood hit the ground
and the ground hit my ass

i sat there in my tears
pondering a lie to tell
one that told nothing of my flight
and one that i could sell

i came home late that night
with relief my mother slept
i hobbled to my bed
and passed out as i wept.


The Trim Trimmer Show

I feel if you want to steal my limelight
then you had best learn to rhyme tight,
and double up your rhyme with each line 
like mine so that I might feel the fright, 
decline and beeline from your sight.

Live your life in the shadows
far away from the meadows 
and only move slightly so 
your world doesnt crumble.

Just sit in your bubble and wallow
and mumble afraid to rumble
this phenom for the trouble.

You've the chance of a bumble bee
that's been detached from its stinger and wings,
whinging in pain towards the fat lady that sings. 
Nearing the finish line in less than a minutes time,
sliding from the peak and unable to climb,
beaten down in shock by my sublime
and superbly well crafted rhyme.

You can repeatedly attempt to try to call my bluff
but you cannot sit in my seat or out do my stuff
because I'll treat you rough and smack the puff
out of your cheeks thus causing you to fluff
words you seek, weak without enough. 

I'm the Trim Reaper, I creep,
I'll push you down until you creek,
and become to weak, 
to move or even speak,
I'll allow your slow retreat, 
as the tears begin to leak,
I'll beat out the next beat 
as I beat and defeat on repeat.

Kings fumble their crown 
in a blink of the eye,
and fall down earth bound 
from way up in the sky,
because they cannot thrive,
not while I am alive,
best to give up then hide 
and silence crying eyes.

Musk it you must as the dusk hides the dust,
because you can't muster up or adjust 
and prove that you've got enough groove 
to remove me when you're busted with no thrust
to remove me or leave me stationed to rust.

Trust me I'll turn your talent crusty abruptly
then move heaven and hell above me.

My desire will not tire as the fire transpires up high,
all eyes on me to see the majestic Phoenix rise.
A presence out of this world like the Phoenix lights,
this sentence wields the last words seen in this write.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.

It Matters Not

IT MATTERS NOT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS



It matters not the price , I shall not cut and run
I will muster up the strength til the battle done
Unsheathe my sword, toil; til the conflict won
Should I perish before the victory is reached
I pray others will rise and fill in the breach
Crown your laurels there are acmes to reach


Challenge all corruption til the victory is won
Imposing evil ever ignored, ousted put on the run
All injustices challenged so truth can carry on
Evils unimpeded strengthen n continue to grow
Rise up and face them,  administer the fatal blow
Lesson to all tyrannies to reap the sins they sow

A Mafia Comedy

Poet heads up note: This poem is rated pg for some violence.


Born into a mafia family,
with his umbilical cord in a knot,
he took his first breath
as his Mom lay on the cot,
his Dad was big, tough and burly,
while his new son
who they called Don
was very small and squirrely,
and most definitely a runt,
As a teenager he tried 
to be tough and to please,
his glasses falling off
every time he sneezed,
Going into his room 
to get buffed up and get muscles,
his 90 lb. frame couldn't take it,
and just like at the sight of blood,
he almost always fainted,
His friend Andy at school
knew Don was always funny,
trying to  protect him
from the bullies taking his lunch
and giving him swirlies,
Easily intimidated, nervous and shy
he'd be at the shooting range
and always miss the bullseye,
Going with his Dad,
on drive-by mafia shootings,
his gun shaking so bad,
he thought he was going to lose it,
So his Dad gave him a switchblade
to cut peoples throats with,
which he kept hidden well in his coat,
but the only courage he could muster up,
was the vomit from his throat,
As much as Don tried,
his Dad knew his son was yellow,
he'd never be like him,
a wise guy or a goodfellow,
so Don left the family business,
and took a bus out to Hollywood,
he didn't miss murdering in the least,
or the miserable mafia neighborhood,
so now he's famous to say the least,
especially with the little kids,
and currently stars in the sitcom,
"the shakiest gun in the east."

Premium Member Wonderland VI: The Sailor's Tale

Morning

The doctor called the next man in 
And offered him a chair
Observing him in silence 
As he wrestled with despair.

A minute passed before they spoke 
And when he raised his head
With tearful eyes he whispered that 
He wished that he was dead.

"Those tides wave back and beckon me 
When I walk along the sand.
I gave up life at sea and now 
I’m all at sea on land.

I used to be a real man 
And was never mocked before.
I hide each day inside my shell.
With no 'porpoise' anymore.

Rules of logic don’t exist
In the world I live in now.
I really want to help myself 
But sadly don’t know how.

I planned to study back at school 
But admit I didn’t go.
Schools of whales and schools of fish 
Are the only schools I know."

The doctor was the best in town 
And knew her patient well.
She agreed to medication 
And support throughout his hell.

She also gazed towards the stars 
To muster up some hope
And helped him try to help himself 
In ways that he might cope.


Noon

The man returned to clinic 
Sounding cheerful as he said:
“Thank you I'm much better 
You have helped me clear my head!

Your input worked! I’m feeling well! 
I'm off to sea tonight!”
The doctor sat back in her chair
As things did not feel right..


Night

He watched the lobsters from the sea 
Dance on the croquet green
Then came around in hospital 
From what felt like a dream.


Later That Night

Half-awake and half asleep 
With the doctor near his side
He learnt he’d tried to end it all 
And very nearly died.

"A nurse agreed to follow you
And then pulled you from the sea.
He was acting on instructions 
From a plan set down by me.

Your cheeriness was rooted 
In your plans to take your life; 
I sensed this during clinic
As your doctor - and ex-wife."

My Pain

My eyes fountain
As i muster up to our nations mountain
This fact i ascertain
But no pleasures i entertained.

My eyes fountains
For the waif 
My voice wails for the poor
Sleeping in cold on bare floor.

My eyes fountain
For the orphans
Whom sweat became their daily bread
whom pain becomes their dinner gown.


My eyes fountain
For the homeless
Those who are truly hopeless
Those whose time are less.


I wail for our drown economy
No more peace nor harmony
No sweet cuddles, no honey
No one to dry our tears, this is not funny.


This is my pain
Like dark ache its upon my spine
the nation is drunk with wine
In regret we now dine.


My eyes fountain
For now 3 square meal is not square
balanced diet is no longer balanced
Vitamins can no longer be gotten through our VITAL MEANS.

I give my voice in prayer
My tears i offer in supplication
Lord please let your Kingdom Come
WE PRAY LET IT COME, LET IT COME.

I'M Just Another Girl.

I'm just another girl.
My situation doesn't matter.
The fact is, at one point or another,
everyone gets let down,
everyone has disappointments,
everyone hurts.
We're all human.
We're allowed to feel these emotions
without feeling guilt or greed.
We'll all have good days & bad days;
days where you wish you'd never gotten out of bed.
Days when you think you cannot carry on any longer.
It's on these days you need to search deep down,
and keep it together when you'd rather fall apart.
Muster up  every ounce of dignity & courage you have,
and put a fake smile upon that gloomy face of yours.
After a while you will feel
Impowered
Courageous
Strong
Confident.
It is this that you will take away from this experience.
You'll always remember the pain & the disappointment,
but that will only puse you harder
to become a much stronger person.
© Rachel W  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member For Your Speculative Mind

Pray, I know, I feel it, I sense it
The intuition which is mightier than my wit
Tweets it to my mind
And I just trust it
As it holds the same power
As a walking stick would, to a blind,
Pray, i just know that about me 
And about all the others you do ponder!

See, you do care solely to see that which you choose
The bright smile which makes us all lovelier than a rose
The glamour which bids us all to fly high on ecstatic clouds
And of course, the cause for which we do sound our bells loud!

And I just know, that, behind your gentle facet
You do let unfold, about us, a doomed ballet!
Why, does it even matter
If we are lovers or mere philosophers?
Does it be a cause of bother
As to bring up a tsunami in your flowing river?

Pray, know that the world is made of difference of all sorts
Know that to judge others is a virus easily caught
Know that you can be immune to such an infection
All it requires is to be able to muster up, in you, an introspection!

See the world as it is, a revolving mess upon its own confusion
See yourself as a particle of dust, made of mysterious concoction
See your being as being devoid of meaning
For the life you live is a lie, 
Meant someday to be treated as would be an abortion!

Upon it, souls tread, carrying dutifully their own burden
Even if they know that their existence remains as that of the fly
Fickle and uncertainly driven
So much that easily and without warning
They do become, faced with Death, downfallen!

Why, in such a world, tell me, brother or sister
Tell me, 
Is it worth wasting your time lost in hatred
Or lost in creating a judgemental corner
Where you do spit out your rancour
Causing you to feel, about yourself, illbred?

Tell me, 
Pray, is it not better
To smile, so totally intoxicated
By the birth of stars in your own essence,
To love, so totally moved
By the warmth you feel
When you do share this essence
And to hold each and everyone
In a bond as strong as steel?

4th Dec 2017
For Contest Judgmental People And Haters 
Sponsored by: Brenda Chiri

Shoal

I suppose the transcendence that is sought after
Will come from a potential difference 
Belonging to an electron surge that will fill my cup
To the brim
So I can then tip my hat to the waiting masses
With phalanges that sparkle and emit tiny hurricanes
All for the honor and glory of the unrequited neural infarctions
That spun off of your lips
During those building moments where 
We hung onto the precipice with the skin of our teeth
Yet there are no branches ejecting out from the side of this cliff
To grasp onto 
During moments of terminal velocity
Yes
I thought someone would someday enter a vast trance and see everything
I had hoped I had this power 
Not even Siddhartha could muster up this kind of energy
I suppose we are just beautiful collections of atoms afterall

Crick

The body becomes the prison
I feel there is reason somewhere
But these lessons seem ill prepared

I’ve taken good advantage of the length of my neck
And now there is steel from collarbone to  jaw line
In the tips of  fingers
are trills and little fires of anger
I slept with the window open last night
God forbid, the fresh air
And now I muster up all the strength
to close it 
and save the rest of my body

I want to dare it; want to turn 180
And burn right where I’m damaged
And then maybe the crick will become cracked
And the stick will go slack
And  I can spin again
From my own axis

I’ve been thinking of him 
How he rejected the idea of olive oil
On his neck, the healing of holy water
How in three days he was healed
And in three days his healer was risen
The mercy of the breath given to reject
The humble pompous anecdote
Of his foolish mother in law

And so in rebellion I prayed 
And turned to feel the pangs of pain
Jesus rose on the third day
Mister was healed just the same
I can’t take two more days
© Te Indi  Create an image from this poem.

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