Best Overlap Poems
The overlapping of me and us three
Of who I was and who I turned out to be
I never ever felt I was good enough
Or tuff enough to deal with that stuff
Gentleness inside grew like a flower
by day by night hour by hour
Yet I’m not some shrinking violet
I did not could not would not cower
I allowed soft to become my superpower
No bitter bone or heart like stone
A soft voice without the sappy happy tone
Those who need me won’t be left all alone
My minds not made to be judgmental
even when others might feel anger prone
So I’m okay with me
and who you two became too
We each have our ways to be true
I’m thankful we escaped our blue
Finding our best way through
We are more than what we were
or even all the things we’ve done or do
Nothing is everything
Thankfully overlapping old ways
make way for the new.
Myself an my siblings each dealt with the trauma of our childhood in our own ways. When I was younger I had trouble accepting their different ways. Time is a lense that helps us view the past with more clarity.
I love my little corner of the yard
when nearby Lilac Bush perfumes the air.
The human dwellers treat me with regard.
They sit behind their house and simply stare.
They gaze on me while I am in the pink
and blooms on me are streaked with white and rose.
They sometimes deeply breathe my scent; I think
they like me best when I’m in fancy clothes.
In time, their small ones stay around all day
and swing from ropes strung from my strongest arm.
I’m glad to serve my young friends in their play.
But later, I bring forth my greatest charm.
My ovaries expand and overlap. . . . .
My luscious fruit gets plucked, and then I nap!
Feb 17, 2021
for the 'Open Poetry 2' Contest of Charlotte Puddifoot
Colorful flowers and spaghetti straps
And my flabby arms from seams overlap
But the sundress still beckons
It’s diet time, I reckon
Girdle needed, my tummy to entrap
Seeking new ways for calories to burn
To wear that sundress, I’ll let famine churn
Want to look provocative
Avoid stares accusative
Hunger overwhelms, for ice cream I yearn
Sign up for Biggest Loser on TV
So Jillian Michaels can torture me
Pushing boulders up steep hills
To accentuate the frills
Of a small sundress designed for Twiggy
Jillian cracks the whip with no remorse
I drag tired bones through the exercise course
Now slim, I sleep peacefully
Blessed with deep serenity
While friends say, “She makes a beautiful corpse.”
*Entry for “The Sundress,” a contest sponsored by Constance La France ~A
Rambling Poet~
by Carolyn Devonshire
I'm smart, crippled with knowledge I never sought,
things I wish I didn't know.
The song of a kiss so brilliant it's like an x-ray,
the voice of the red rose, the yellow, the white.
The whisper sound where the petals meet and overlap,
the dew that nourishes.
Listen: This is the difference between an object and an idea,
between love and desire,
hope and faith.
This is what's left when there's nothing left,
when the past is soaked up like oxygen
into the blood of the future.
This is an image in a mirror,
imperfect.
When love looks into a mirror and becomes aware of itself
it becomes bliss.
Ecstasy becomes rapture,
sorrow becomes anguish,
the world turns silver and night never falls.
This is a song of extremes, of haste, of not looking back.
These are the words.
The music is the sound that time makes when you're
buried beneath an eternity of its ooze,
the voices that come unbidden and unannounced,
the screams that make you say, I wish, I hope, and finally,
I know.
This is the knowledge that maimed me,
the secret I spread like a contagion with a kiss,
a whispered word,
a touch.
This is the truth I'd sell my soul to be rid of.
Believe me, I've tried.
This is the truth about being buried alive, about being utterly alone,
about missing boats.
And this is how I told it--in a whisper, in a scream, in a song
As a joke in the light of day,
as a prayer in the darkness.
Listen.
Could it be love when shadows overlap
Their beings blending, doubling to dark
Embracing tiled or terra cotta floor
Sliding silently as silhouettes of shame
Clinging to the still forbidden touch
Relishing the fevered heat of light
Cast upon this desperate aching need
To meld - a two so lonely - into one
===================================
Where does my kitty cat go every day?
When I'm heading to school, is he getting away?
Or forgetting he musn't let strays in to play?
Where does my kitty cat go every day?
Where does my kitty cat go when it rains?
Does he stop at the station and try to hop trains?
Does he drop by the airport to gawk at the planes?
Where does my kitty cat go when it rains?
Where does my kitty cat go after dark?
Does he meet all his friends to play ball in the park?
Do the fans in the stands tweet and bray? Growl and bark?
Where does my kitty cat go after dark?
What does my kitty cat do when I nap?
Does he borrow my clothes? Pair my shoes with my cap?
Do you think he's aware that the toes overlap?
What does my kitty cat do when I nap?
How does my kitty cat know when I'm sad?
Does it show, what a terrible day I have had?
Does he nibble my nose to say things aren't so bad?
How does my kitty cat know when I'm sad?
What will my kitty cat do when I'm old?
Will he switch on the TV before being told?
Will he sit with me too, watching stories unfold?
What will my kitty cat do when I'm old?
What will my kitty cat think I intend
if I show him I care with the time that I spend
and make sure I am there when he's needing a friend?
I know he'll think that I love him.
**The End**
===================================
It’s early spring, and tulips are in bloom;
as folks come out and shed their winter wrap;
the season comes alive from nature’s nap,
and warms the air, adorning outdoor room.
The birds all molt revealing spring’s proud plume;
their springtime songs of mating overlap,
and in the distance, sounds of pecker’s tap,
and tender leaves appear from winter’s womb.
But April brings such savage springtime storms;
tornados, hail and lightning cross the land,
and people must seek shelter once again.
Yet when the storms are gone and May sun warms,
and flowers come to life as nature planned;
the spell of springtime spreads from hill to glen.
March 15, 2018
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania
genuine snow white hair
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private)
after i croon (to said lass),
the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission
perchance twill be doomed from the start,
and hence finding me forlorn
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure,
would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness),
aye also resort to buttress
any aural "stormy Dani yelling)
via walled in interlap,
which accouterment functions
as a double agent i.e. (or,
to be rather crude),
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news
inducing madcap
mass media circus
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap
essentially providing wig gull room
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap
pill low ma rendered free and clear
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms
most likely something internuclear
simply to discover visa vis authenticity
if cute employee
(sporting hair
white as the virgin snow),
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited
all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.
In the middle of the universe I stand,
But that universe is only mine.
I’ve heard you’re in the middle of yours,
And I think that’s just fine.
Should our universes overlap,
I hope we’ll get along.
Bound to be issues now and then,
What is right and what is wrong?
We’ll have to share the time and space.
We’ll have to share the future too.
Good or bad, right or wrong,
I guess I’ll share my universe with you.
Though we thought we stood alone,
Each other’s universe has changed.
I suspect that was God’s Plan,
That it was all ‘arranged’.
In the middle of the universe I stand,
Sharing with others in the middle too.
“Here’s a place for you, and you and you.” He said.
So thankful that He said,
“And here’s a place for you.”
3February2015
Love, joy and peace
three virtues, over-simplified,
three fairly well-understood character traits
desired by friends, rejected by very few
who live in community with others.
Patience, goodness, kindness
Patience, I readily admit is my own Achilles’ heel.
Goodness and kindness seem to overlap.
And yet I have come to understand that they are world’s apart.
Being kind, I might hesitate to mention your blatant shortcomings,
those faults which would hurt your feelings and separate us.
Being good, I am obligated to make you aware
of wrongdoings that weaken your purpose and cause others
to mistrust and ignore you.
Goodness goes that extra mile.
Friends can tell friends the truth even if it hurts
in the hope of making a better friend.
Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control
the last of the nine qualities which folks consider
in developing spiritual relationships.
Gentleness coincides with kindness and goodness,
for there is a way in which the truth can be told
with the intent of a stronger friendship.
Gentleness I relate to humility, and if I
see you my friend headed for that lonely place of
no return, I feel duty-bound to share with you
any error I see that can be rectified.
Through self-control, I can rest at night knowing that
there are NO secrets between you and me that
I would regret if you died tomorrow
and I knew I had not told you the truth.
July 14, 2013
Contest: International Friendship Day, August 7th 2022
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
"All night long the northern streamers
Shot across the trembling sky:
Fearful lights, that never beckon
Save when kings or heroes die." - William Edmondstoune Aytoun
It is rare to find heroes as an adult. Although I never had the honor of meeting her, the magnificent, empowering, and inspirational Ruth Bader Ginsburg has become one of mine. Her unceasing fight for equality, for genuine liberty, and for expecting that her intelligence and achievements be recognized has made her a woman I admire and respect.
Last night there was a terrific thunderstorm in my corner of the world, and combined with the sad news of RBG's passing today, I was reminded of the above quote, and was inspired to pen these lines ~
Last night rang drums of thunder
And the voice of lightning sang
In oratory plunder
Of salvation's storming rain
Unseen, cosmic purview's
Sacrificial overlap
Our price now drawn
To the stars you have gone
Leaving this earthy vacuum to
The memories of thunderclaps.
9/18/20
The mist of our actions from the past sometimes hit our present days with over spray. Seasons of life twist, turn, overlap as good & bad similarities began to seem repetitive. A cross road within a void of time. Are we steering the path of our destiny or will our destiny take the coarse predestine by creation's origin. The mixture of experiences influence the emotions we carry around daily. Stabilizing our personality to handle the choirs on the daily is priority number one. Explosions of attitudes erupt in the environment as peace is the destiny our heart crave to be the norm all the time. Trying to stop the pain by chasing more pain is that the definition of insane. Days things seem strange are we witnessing the vision of our triumph or repping the benefits of acceptance, enduring the pain. Is the pain is love game being promoted in America as a solution to keep us sane & the key to us having things. Then watch the rich man blow out his brains; cause riches wasn't the solution to his pain.
Enjoy!!!!
My umami man
the iconoclast
the epitome of man
he handles me
like a Tamagotchi
feeding, touching, caring
and then even daring
For you are not
just salty and sweet
you are savory
your drive can't be beat
When on your quests
you can't be bested
and I had no idea
when you came in stealth
proclaimed you were untested!
[pre-chorus]
I have no idea how I won your heart!
except I showed you my own
and my true grit... determined to stand alone
[chorus]
I gazed deep into you
helped you see
all of the amazing things
you can do
who you truly are
for as much as
a scientist as you are
you had not really
examined your own talent that far!
[verse]
You overflow with brains!
and you flash sheer genius
more than a match for me!
my twin, my compliment
you overlap, fill my gaps
together we span
the complete business plan
the swiss army knife for life!
[guitar solo]
[verse]
We do need more rest
if we are goin to conquer
these next tests
Mr 3 AM
make me a pretzel
dipped, baked
sampled, and far more than tasted!
I feel devoured
completely deflowered
no idea how you
got so completely empowered!
[outro]
[verse]
And we laugh too
it's with you I feel completely grounded
our lives, our thoughts so well rounded
come dance with me
in our thoughts, through our dreams
and into reality
My umami man
salty sweet savory who brings out all that I am
I Love you
my umami man
my compliment
my forever plan
[end]
I’m not sure how one explains old age…I’m not sure what rules apply.
At the funeral when my Grandma died…I remember how they tried…
I heard them say how she was a friend to many
A mother…a grandmother…a wife…
How she was fortunate as people go
to have lived a long and wonderful life.
But when I think about the time back then, for I was only 10 you see
with those things they all were saying…I could not totally agree.
Sure she might have had some wrinkles but I didn’t think of them back then
I never thought how old she was…I just figured…she was 10.
I guess this age thing has to do with the way our lives overlap…
how we all have our own techniques…and methods to adapt.
Grandma knew me my first 10 years of life…before the time she passed
While the 10 years that I knew her happened to be her last.
But she read the books I liked to read, she played the games I liked to play
She ran and jumped and climbed with me, she was 10 if she was a day.
In the Spring we’d plant a garden…a secret garden that was ours
In the Summer we’d go swimming or sit under the stars
She liked to take long walks with me…show me things I did not know
She helped me gather leaves in Fall…and build forts in the snow.
So was she old…my Grandma?
as I now search my memory..
to many it might have looked that way
but she was never old to me.
“Now overlap the sundials
with your shadows”
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Morning
There are no answers.
The river is too busy reflecting
trees on the far bank and healing
its mirror after being gashed
by a passing boat.
The whole morning with its clear,
crisp air and sunlit space is simply
getting on with what it has to do -
letting the day's story unfold
in time.
And so it is with me,
unfolding into my own space,
trying to heal the things
that do not reflect
what is truly real.
Evening
Like a gnomon on a sundial,
the Newport power station's
tall chimney casts its long shadow
across the river. It seems
to herald a sense of hurry
as evening approaches.
Soon, starlings will begin to loudly
bustle for roosting positions
in the nearby plane trees
and fruit bats will take flight
lifting a dark ominous cloud
into the night sky before
splintering into countless wings.
They are like messengers
from another world.
But who will hear them?
I walk home, my thoughts
seeking shelter in the familiar,
deep in my own denial