Best Overloaded Poems
The many winters I had seen
When once I was a teen
Gathered inside our small living room
Joy and simplicity our faces illume
Warm with laughter at striking stories
Light is the heart and empty of worries
My sisters and sole brother
The treasure of my father and my mother
Mum, our angel of the earth
The springs of our gaiety and mirth
Moving in the magic of her young age
Our hunger for hot food would assuage
Would even bring a piece of paradise
To us, if we dared ask, for any price
Dad, overloaded, would tread miles for our sake
Serene reassuring smiles while so much at stake
The nights echoed holy verses dad used to read
Developing a sense of belonging to his creed
Opening our hearts to the graces and blessings of the Divine
In my veins, a life of a tender love I’ll ever enshrine
*****
Many winters had passed
Still nourished of a so precious past
Confined to the tranquility of the night
The magic box would offer dreams in black and white
Stress and concern evaporated and lost weight
Soft whispers.. suppressed giggles with life pulsate
The quietest of corners I would always look for
My sanctuary, my home made bookstore
Ever my worlds side by side shaping the inner me
No single worry over the one whom I would be
Why would I when I was entangled in more than one story
Preened myself on my pen musing in my world of ivory
My younger sis who of English knew no word
Would grant me her patience and love for what she heard
Love and most of all contentment and gratitude
Deeply remained, the reign of my worlds and my soul food
The cold of winters, now, how can my words perceive
In my realm of poesy what of warmth willing to weave
The winter of our Life which many abhor
My wishes I will have the grace to adore.
Categories:
overloaded, age, blessing, books, family,
Form:
Rhyme
A quote from "90 North" by Randall Jarrell:
"I see at last that all the knowledge
I wrung from darkness -- that the darkness flung me --
is worthless as ignorance: nothing comes from nothing,
The darkness from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness.
And we call it wisdom. It is pain."
The first bike I ever owned --
when I was ten or eleven --
was a Christmas gift
from a friend. He was receiving a new one
and I was gifted with his old bike.
He had cleaned it up and brush painted it
with a nice coat of red paint.
It was the only gift I got that year,
one of my only gifts as a child.
I loved that bike:
it freed me to pedal around so
I could accompany my friend
as we rode anywhere in our tiny,
sandy, two-paved-road fishing town.
Before the bike, I ran alongside him.
I was quite accustomed to running everywhere,
especially in summer, barefoot, usually shirtless.
Most years from first grade
until we were about twelve,
we spent our time together,
at his house or in imaginary jungles
or on wild, indian-infested wagon train trails.
We defended those trails from apaches
intent on taking our scalps.
Sometimes, on pirate ships, we manned canons
or forced reluctant traitors and mutineers
to walk the plank for failures and misdeeds.
We were never bored, usually outdoors.
On jungle safaris we were frequently attacked
by ferocious lions and tigers and
often captured by cannibal head-hunters
who put us into large pots to cook us
while dancing all around and brandishing
their spears. They sang or chanted
amazing, invented language repetitive
verses overloaded with frequent "ughs'
and tongue-twisting nonsense phrases.
His mother served us gallons of Kool Aid,
gave us snacks we ate with relish.
With a child’s trusting nature,
I hoped this could never end –
I felt secure in friendship and
apparent acceptance by
my friend’s parents. Of course,
things did change.
But..........I did not.
Not for a long, long time.
Categories:
overloaded, age, best friend, boy,
Form:
Narrative
The umbra of my Soul's eclipse,
Stellar dweller cosmic ships.
Solar flares and lunar lairs-
Blackest Holes and deep abyss...
Photo gamma satellite,
Telescopic magnetite.
Anti-Matter fusion shatters
Super-Nova afterlife
Gravimetric poly-synthetic-
Nano vortex optic aesthetic
(Overloaded circuits exploded!)
Isotopic pseudo-frenetic
Electromagnetic static compulsion;
Subatomic particle propulsion;
Supersonic chronic convulsion-
Microscopic mega emulsion.
Toxic, caustic antiseptic,
Hyperactive epileptic;
Hydroponic telekinetic-
Quantum neuro cybernetic
Paralyzed by all the Lies,
Erratic, manic muffled cries...
Catastrophic chaotic logic-
Conflicted, afflicted--dies!
Categories:
overloaded, space, stars,
Form:
Rhyme
Early Morning, It's a foggy day,
There are murky fog on the way.
Dogs are ready to bark,
Brightness of Sun is in little Dark.
Is nothing left?
Why are children are forced to jump in Dark depth?
Is it all our duty for our Indian Child beauty?
It's an Irony of our Society.
Is there no doll?
Will Demons play with ball?
Where are innocent books at all?
Will book play with Moby dick and Crokel?
Hopeful eyes, happy Smiles.
Soft hands, million Dreams.
Is this not identity of a Child?
Why they are looking so Wild?
Joke of their childhood,
Why children looks for hard wood?
At such a young age,
Overloaded work with low wage.
They beg, "Help me out?"
Their Heart badly shout.
There is no doubt!
One day, We will be all out.
Then in this world what is left?
We all are in a little Horrible depth.
As we do this day by day,
They will harm us in future everyday.
Why children are going to work?
They are not Giant worker.
Please! Stop this child labour.
Otherwise we will Cry forever.
Categories:
overloaded, child, childhood, children,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Everybody bears a price tag
Claim tycoons with bottomless purses
With a plethora of dollars to flash and flag
About to entice simpletons who deem their lives struck by curses
Inserted in their DNA
Generations ago
Which render them incapable to shove away
Bets of cash their stricken spines can’t forgo
While stomachs groan and lips
Demand smartphones, mascaras and lipsticks
Deployed to slay chaps with wanton whips
That cut and slice with savage kicks
On pates gone wan with insomnia
As limousine driven juggernauts
Splurge huge wads of notes to catalyze mass hysteria
Among street corner astronauts
Whose flight to Cupid exoplanet
Fell on its face
As moral worth net
They chose to suppress
In the face of perennial penury
That nibbles homesteads bereft of meals
In January
When cash overloaded sovereigns strike asymmetric deals
In which they beat down the cashless
Unless the poor rebuff cash offers
Preferring the famine and thirst the voiceless
Endure twenty four seven cos their coffers
Cash they’ve never seen
Cos fate shifted the balance of resources in favour of the few
Who more often than not turn out mean
To taunt the poor who shift on a church pew
As a tycoon blurts, ‘There’s a price tag on you
The sooner you acknowledge the reality
The better your world will enliven anew
As on you my bucks bestow and restore dignity in humility.’
Categories:
overloaded, poems,
Form:
Free verse
Tinnitus tinnitus, innocuous by name,
invisible tasteless, sounds pretty lame,
Ears hissing, snakes inside my head,
Growing louder, causing turmoil in bed,
Room’s spinning, feel like getting sick,
Banging kicks off, rhythmically quick.
Tinnitus tinnitus, pneumatic drillers,
incessant maniacal machine gun killers,
Thumping smashing, trash metal band,
Like rock music, but this I cannot stand,
Eyes are bloodshot, severe lack of sleep,
cacophonous noise, then marching feet.
Tinnitus tinnitus, chainsaws a cutting,
No trees or lumberjacks, I see nothing,
Put on the radio, try drown out noise,
overwhelmed, lose rationale and poise,
Church bells peeling, ringing perhaps,
overloaded, mind spirals into collapse.
Tinnitus tinnitus, curse this living hell,
hammering my face, eyes begin to swell,
Delirious sweating, sheets soaking wet,
overcome in confusion, desperate upset,
Pray to god make the torment go away
release me from this Kafkaesque array.
Tinnitus tinnitus, eardrums explode,
Brain is shattered, as decibels grow,
Can’t take anymore, at my wits end,
On slugs of whiskey, sanity depends,
One after the other, knock them back,
Throbbing numbing starting to relax.
Tinnitus tinnitus, drink myself unconscious,
Wake up next day, agonizingly nauseous,
My ear is on the pillow, bottle’s in pieces,
covered with blood, trembling increases,
Look in the mirror, No no this cannot be,
Vincent Van Gough’s, staring back at me.
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
overloaded, abuse, anxiety, confusion, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
Golly, this day could be my very
last!
So no, I am not going to organize
my house really fast.
I will sit with my cat, her calico
fur, a love drape upon me.
With warm cup of Joe and yes,
writing poetry that sings of life,
not strife!
Not one ear of mine for doomsday
sayers.
Who love predicting our coming end.
Go look out your window, do!
Do you see millions of dead?
Is an iceberg in your yard, over
your head?
That's the vision the media wants
you to retain.
A planet filled with floods, fires
and incurable pain.
Their latest is the pandemic scare,
hello?
Get your flu shot, the drug
companies see you are a cash cow.
"Come down to the pharmacy,get your
flu shot," they hawk now!
Ah, media, I love your theatrics!
As evil as the snake in Eden was.
How crazy are your prancing antics!
Such pitiful, feigned hypocrisy.
Negative, overpaid, lying donkeys!
Methinks Panagiota dislikes phony
news.
Very true, very true!
News should be on one night a year.
Imagine how free your mind would be.
Not overloaded by the mongrels of
flotsom and jetson chicanery.
September 20, 2019
Categories:
overloaded, freedom, meaningful, perspective, planet,
Form:
Rhyme
The Quakers, being religiously persecuted, set sail from expatriated England;
they were the first settlers to reach the shore of New England: a free land!
Later the Puritans came and settled in other eastern, bustling colonies
seeking the same religious freedom, but their urge was stronger than dreams.
Many moved westward on foot, on horseback and on overloaded wagons...
exploring the American wilderness plundered by indigenous Indians;
they searched for grassland everywhere, to let their cattle roam and graze;
first they built wooden shacks on vast, lush prairies full of Queen Ann's Lace.
And out of this American westward expansion, came the fearless pioneers,
who sought gold mines...despite the wild cowboys causing troubles
with heavy drinking and desire for unscrupulous women, seeking money and pleasure,
who served them more whisky and lured them to a room with a demeaning measure.
Beyond the Rocky Mountains' and the Appalachians Mountains' skies,
these diligent pioneers obtained wealth with sweat and sacrifices...
changing and shaping the wild landscapes of arable land,
avoiding the drudgery of getting stuck in mud and sand.
Categories:
overloaded, cowboy-western, family, food, history,
Form:
Quatrain
The Possum of Possibilities was invited by Grandpa Troll to visit our brood,
The Possum heard Carol had a dry spell and a terrible writer’s block, so true.
With the troll’s adventures, penguin’s antics, and witches brew...
With Dragon’s mayhem in town, something had to be done, they knew.
Grandpa Troll brought Possum over, for Carol to peruse,
He looked her up, down, and sideways to everyone’s amuse,
Her mind’s wheels were not lined up right, he announced.
You have activity all about you, that's very pronounced.
It is all swirling around and not latching to the cogs.
Ideas and stories are coming in fast and plenty, but…
There are so many and they are acting like a stream of logs,
Her brain is overloaded and getting a little bit clogged.
Possum instructed Grandpa Troll on the best course of action,
But Dragon was nearby and overheard the conversation.
Our fiery friend was planning on how to clear the brain jam,
Then ski-daddle and go on the lam.
Like so many plans before, he knew Carol’s brain was crammed,
And his ideas always ended up like some explosive spam.
Grandpa Troll saw that look in Dragon’s eyes and knew there was a plot,
And said to Possum; “We'll need your help again, before we’re in a spot.”
Over to Dragon Possum went, then a once over, right, left, and top to bottom,
Grandpa Troll reached into a dusty drawer that hadn’t seen light since Suttom.
Out he pulled two pens, one larger than the other, filled with magic ink.
An incantation filled the air – “E pluribus divideous writeous inlink.”
(Basically saying; what stories were divided are now joined by two writers.)
Possum handed one to Carol and the larger one to Dragon.
“With the magic pens, you both will be able to see the stories about you.”
For Carol, he pointed out; now the cogs won't get dinked, as ideas get linked,
And Dragon, a source of the jams, once written down, became happy as a clam.
Both help each other, now, as Grandpa Troll had hoped with all the activities.
And with a little help from an old friend, called the Possum of Possibilities.
A writer’s block that was going on with his dear...
Is a tale that Hubby has now told, and made so clear.
And now another peaceful evening… was suddenly shot all to Heck...
Until Next time…. As Dragon and Carol are now racing all about!
Michael Eastman & Carol Written 7-21-2015
Categories:
overloaded, fantasy, fun, funny, happiness,
Form:
Light Verse
Some Things will End but Memories Last Forever
We do different things in our daily life and may forgot some things before we went to sleep at night.
And most of us have no problem with that, because if we need to remember all the things that we’ve experience every day then our memory will be quickly overloaded.
That would lead to an exaggerated nervous and the possible consequences is give us a psychological complication.
Ends up with many experiences to keep in the forget zone of our brains and we never more thought about it or looked back, because those were things that not interesting enough for us to think back.
This is something very great if we could forget quickly for those bad things which happened and gave us an unpleasant experience in life.
Then all positive enjoyable moments will stay everlasting in the memory of our brain.
It would be very happy for us to only think back our joyful memory with an emotionally smile.
But now comes the not so funny part of our life, with an emotional abuse or bad experiences that hurt our hearts.
We have a separate room (storage) in our brain to keep this bad memory from the worst event in our life.
The bad experience will remain in our memory for the rest of our life and it will haunt us again when we are facing something similar in future.
Because we are always reminded of the horrific moments of life and thereby get all stirred up again in our memory which can give us a bad feeling.
Try to forget those bad memories forever and not to think about it back because it is not worth to lose our energy on it.
Keep only those positive things in our brain, don’t let the negative thinking influence and ruin for our life which give frustrations in our future.
Say Goodbye to the bad memory in our life and only remember things which can give us happiness forever.
I wish you a healthy life.
Kindly Regards,
Author Jan Jansen
http://poems.easybranches.com/things-will-end-but-memories-last-forever.html
Categories:
overloaded, memory, poems, poetry,
Form:
Prose Poetry
~I Believe In You Jesus~
(Rhyme)
You know I believe in You my Jesus,my Lord and always will be
You created me and help me every time I'm feeling badly
You heal my weary heart and deliver me of what sin has broken so many times,
And when I accepted Your Salvation You made me see for the first time too!
Now I place my trust primarily in You,God,and agree with You, in all that Your Holy Bible says
You should always come first in everything I say and I do in my daily living
Believing all the way in You my Father God and also in Your son Jesus everyday
Paying attention to what you want me to do while I am here for You waiting
What about you, do you believe in God? Do you believe also in His precious Son?
Perhaps you're feeling deep inside empty overloaded by sin and too many things hidden
But the fact is that you can release it and give it all to Jesus, He'll take care of you
Rend your heart not your clothes, all you have to do is 'believe' and you'll be as new!
Many years before I was 'born again' and someone told me about Jesus, I thought I was okay
But I wasn't really fine I came to found out, I was lost without Jesus, and till I accepted Him I was strayed!
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2006
January.24.2015
Categories:
overloaded, bible, change, christian, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
Take My Hand, And Be My Love
By Rick Rucker
Come with me, and be My Love,
Only seeing blue skies Above!
At odd moments, throughout the day,
At tape of recent events, in my mind, I play,
All of my defenses,
Are bypassed by my overloaded senses,
I’m sure my friends think me quite daft,
They’ve seen me oddly smile, heard that I weirdly laughed,
Although it isn’t yet Spring,
Friends mention that I often sing,
At the slightest provocation,
Due to my dearest avocation,
Which is Loving You!
The only thing I forever want to do!
I know that You are more reserved than Me,
Don’t blame me, you have set my Inhibitions Free!
I feel like some love-struck kid,
My Love for You, I never hid.
You have given my Heart wings,
Played a Lover’s tune on my Heart strings!
Take my Hand, and walk with me,
I will try to let You see,
Just how wonderful our Lives will be
Me, in Love with You, and You with Me,
In a Garden of Delight,
Loving You, both day, and night!
Being with You, I will never tire,
To be by your side, I would swim through Fire!
Though our names be not Montague, nor Capulet,
Our Love will be remembered, that I’ll bet,
For such an epic Love, it would be a sin,
If others could not listen in,
My poems are meant to record,
How blessed I am, with You as my reward,
How long will I write for you, a Love Rhyme?
Only until the end of Time!
Categories:
overloaded, loveheart, heart, love, me,
Form:
Couplet
I too sing corruption
I waited on the bench
was told no work
reason (mkono mtupu)
yes had no long relative
I sat next to the conductor
comes an officer
wringing their hands
red-pinkish 100 shilling note
(afande chai)
but the vehicle overloaded
I went job-searching
but my less qualified counterpart had it
sexual favors I tell you
My certificates useless
I now clean the streets
In the bureaucrat
I see my tax
I see embezzled funds
several investigations
with no results
The country is mired into corruption
Who will emancipate us???
strong vespers we need.
I really yearn for the times
when fairness will thrive
when we will sing a dirge to corruption.
Categories:
overloaded, betrayal, jobs, leadership, money,
Form:
Narrative
Questions and Answers
We are overloaded with responses
To questions we care little about:
What to buy and other nonsense--
Marketing crap without a doubt
Seems the only questions that matter
Are the ones that help you know yourself.
They're the ones with no right answer,
That one must answer for oneself.
(chorus)
What do you have worth living for?
What do you think’s worth dying for?
Does something make you greater than you are?
What down here most sets you free,
Helps you become what you want to be?
What is the dream that will take you far?
Who or what is your guiding star?
If you could filter out all the clutter,
The media makes us hear and see,
And let your mind be still like water
To ponder what it means to be.
What do you have worth living for?
What do you think’s worth dying for?
Does something make you greater than you are?
What down here most sets you free,
Helps you become what you want to be?
What is the dream that will take you far?
Who or what is your guiding star?
If think you’ve found some answers,
Please feel free to share.
If think you’ve got some answers,
Please feel free to share.
If think you know the answers,
Please feel free to share.
Categories:
overloaded, angst, dream, life, meaningful,
Form:
Lyric
WARS ARE MADE BY MEN (Satis Shroff)
When you walk in the streets of Freiburg
Or any German town in the East or West,
You see lovely, innocent faces
Of well dressed men and women.
These people are not responsible
For the cruelty, genocide and hatred,
Carried out by their fathers and grandpas.
Wars are made by men.
But the new generation bear a big responsibility,
Not to make it happen again,
For wars are made by men.
We witness it in the refugee homes,
Burning since Hoyerswerda and Mölln.
In 2016 alone 1800 attacks on homes
Of people who sought refuge,
Perpetrated by white racists and skins,
Wars are made by men.
Why do people run away from their Heimat
Why do they cross the Mediterranean Sea,
In overloaded rubber boats.
Wars make refugees out of citizens.
Look at the faces of the scared women and children,
In the eyes of the youth you read
The hopelessness, terror, tragedy and sorrow.
Wars are made by men.
The war bombs are not Heaven sent,
But caused by men called rulers and politicians,
Who seek through war a solution
Of their greedy, evil intentions,
In the guise of nationalism,
Which when unveiled is racism
And the craving for power.
The same craving that made nations
Conquer and misrule other nations.
War is made by men.
Better technology means
More brutality and infernal arsenal.
Every November we think of the victims
Of past wars on Volkstrauertag,
A day of people mourning
The traumatic experiences of war and imprisonment.
We mourn today
And sell weapons tomorrow.
We take part in silent marches,
To remember the murdered Jews,
On Reichskristallnacht and thereafter.
A protest against the Progrom,
Against the Holocaust.
Alas, wars are still made by men
Against other men, women and children.
Wars are made by men.
* * *
Categories:
overloaded, war, world war ii,
Form:
Free verse