Best Overplayed Poems
Why do I go threw this life knowing I have no purpose,
Wife friends family around me tell me that I'm worthless.
I have felt alone for far to long, life on repeat like a song overplayed, sometimes I wonder if I have over welcomed my stay.
Why was I put aside from the rest cuz I'm not normal,well I say im blessed when god made me I was to be different from all the rest.
Why is it everyday I cant seem to get it right constantly battling these demons in my head every ing night. Hard to sleep always turning in the sheets evil presence everywhere has me in defeat
Having an inflated ego is detrimental to living a good life
It's a self-serving trait that can lead to tragedy and strife
One who's overconfident is arrogant, his hubris is rife
Overplaying his hand will cut like the blade of a knife
Some think they're better than the rest but should beware
of what happened in the race between tortoise and hare
When a hand is overplayed, there are screams, "Not fair!"
Pompous are those who are caught in their own snare
People who are uppity and conceited are easily derailed,
throwing a hissy fit when they find their ship has sailed
Dealing themselves a hand, but overplayed, it failed
They'd not be in a fool's paradise if modesty had prevailed
Narcissistic egotists seldom change. They don't understand
that when losing cards lie on the table, openly fanned,
they'd have been better off if they hadn't acted so grand
Those who overplay a hand, need a rebuke of reprimand
Taking everything for granted, with pleasure they boast
With excessive vanity, they need attention more than most,
but if I were to lift a glass, as if to honor them with a toast,
it would obviously be satirical and more indicative of a roast
November 21, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Contest
Sponsored by Eward Ibeh
Hey what did I miss?
Do I owe you something,
that every time I make a move in life you react?
Do I owe you success?
That every time I drown, making bad decisions
You recognize,
Judging like an expert.
Does it hurt to mind your own business?
To make absoluteness in your own garden?
And Show us how magical your opinions can be,
Unfortunately, I am not even really bothered in what you do
Course I am too focused on what I do.
Few Opportunities I blew,
And I am not afraid to start off building by a canoe
In my life patience is virtue, and that is one of my principles.
I am not running a race, nor am I in competition,
I am passionate, even risk I don't mind taking
And with assurance I am gonna top up my life with a barbeque.
I dont really care what you think of me,
Please do the same,
I am trying to live my life.
Please stay back from following me around, you are not my shade.
Please stay back, I am not getting married, I dont need a brides-maid
And I am not your lake so please stop showing up like you are a mermaid.
I am saying this and it does not mean I am afraid of you
It’s just all irritating.
Let me downgrade,
Of course that would be so unfortunate.
And Let me loose concentration,
Of course that might seem out of fashion.
You are not sorry, so no need to pretend.
Cut the act,
Course I know it is what you wanted to celebrate in a decade.
Maybe it got delayed.
And maybe I overplayed, but that is still not your concern.
Hey, Im trying to live,
I am trying to live my life the best way I know how.
I fall, I brake, I rise, I succeed, I loose, I fail, make bad decisions, overstay in my struggles?
That should not matter.
Please give me a breath,
I am just trying to live
And In advance I forgive you
Just please! stop being pain in the ass, I want relief,
I don’t wanna be aggressive
You are so destructive, please Just exit.
Exit from my bussiness,
The show is full, I don’t need a guest speaker.
You are too lost in my space please go find yourself somewhere else,
And Stop being a gossiper, you will grow weaker.
Stay focused in your own lane, and use your brain,
And Stop peeping through my book, write your own.
Live your life,
I am also trying to live my own the best way I know how.
I am trying to live,
I am trying to live my life, in peace The best way I know how.
Im gonna help the sad faces that have faces ,
Redeem each part played in these bad places
And if I had a safety net, I'd be glad to be gracious.
You don't have to say it,
The world is overplayed
And every broken heart seems hopeless everyday.
A corpse amongst the living;
Death is here to stay.
You can say
I tell a story,
Of what happens when we break.
Overtakes our hearts and soul
We reach for what is safe.
Underneath our skin,
We're vulnerable within.
Underneath this place
And What it takes to stay awake.
Underneath we shake;
Of what it takes to stay in place.
Underneath creates,
What we're afraid to face.
interlocking rhyme
Some fellows like to give a lot; our presents, very rare.
Exchanging gifts is such a chore when timing is not fair.
Their endowments are so much more than we are wont to give
My spouse says not a word of this, content with how they live.
I do not want to seem remiss, but how do we start quitting?
Before I start, I will come clean, it is my pride they’re hitting.
It is my honest wish to wean our closeness of its milking
We do not need their lavish aid and hate to be thought bilking.
Their need to give is overplayed, I am a basket case.
Is that a van parked in their drive? A moving van, what grace!
One last offering, on-the-spot, repaid with diddly squat.
I had a brilliant moment of clarity, inspired by a dream,
a profound reminder that things may not be what they seem.
There's not always a clear line between evil and good,
like a wolf in sheep’s clothing is sometimes misunderstood.
Certain years and veiled looks can conceal and surprise
but the truth and intent are always revealed in the eyes.
They are a gateway to the soul, a window in which we see,
too many will often ignore the strength of powers that be.
A self-righteous man will sharply preach with a raised fist.
From a pulpit, he is there to hide what they have missed.
Some will get lost an seek to build a box from detergent,
and all the while they seem to forget, we all are divergent.
Everyone is dealt a hand with a message within each card.
Deciding which one to play is a decision that’s usually hard.
You can hit or you can fold, you might even choose to stay,
just be cautious and study the pattern, but never overplay.
11/25/22
Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
it's quiet,
suffering, it's a quiet &
limp thing. questions
open like books
unread, under(stood),
dusty splintered shelf.
unable to maintain the
self contained war
silent film overlayed
descriptions over &
overplayed; the maid
refusing to leave,
can't breathe can't accept
status position to be
human-
it's quiet, suffering-
something not to be
spoken of.
Much As Love And Hope Defeats Blackest Blight
I shall walk from the dark into new light
Much as love and hope defeats blackest blight
So too, may faith in recovery ask
Does not the hero, in great courage bask
To stride a victor over battles fought
A winner, hero, to live again thus sought.
I shall walk from the dark into new light
To view morn again, revel in delight
So too, shall hope gift its defending shield
Much as beauty to mankind such truth yields
Knowledge within life's wandering parade
Revealing heart's dreams are too oft overplayed.
I shall walk from the dark into new light
Beg forth a basking moon, to defeat night
So too, will joy and happiness return
As wisdom teaches, life's truths we must learn
Alas! To man a great battle to win
In this earthen sea that so darkly spins.
I shall walk from the dark into new light
Much as love and hope defeats blackest blight
So too, may faith in recovery ask
Does not the hero, in great courage bask.
I shall walk from the dark into new light.
Much as love and hope defeats blackest blight.
Robert J. Lindley, 4-07-2022
Rhyme, ( Found Within A Deep-Sent Night Dream )
Waking up next to you is not what I had in mind
I know your inlove
but I wish we could rewind.
A vow was made
obligation overplayed
why did I proceed
because in marriage I don't believe.
white satin, decadent cake
100 guests watched by the lake.
I tried my best to put on a smile
with the groom not realizing he was in denial.
This special day is such a waste
because when years go by it'll be replaced.
I didn't want to hurt anyone
I wasn't looking out for me
I hoped i'd eventually fall for you
and build our family tree.
I care for you but I have to walk away
because I know in the end
it would be me who would betray.
Clubbing it
Once I went to a night- club in Albufeira a dreadful place with
garish colours and a man with a Hammond organ also played
many instruments with a total lack of talent, when he rested
a jukebox took overplayed so loud the windows shook.
Around the dance floor – arena – skeletal women sat crows
that looked at men’s crotches and piercing eyes looked into his
wallet the three ugly sisters had felt at home, their fairy-tale
opulence could have lent this place dignity and humour.
Driftwood from all over Europe men swarmed around them
like bees around a jar of honey, a few caught a bee in time
a dream come true golf lessons swimming pool and garden-
Then they got old eating a lettuce a day, slept the afternoon
away in the evening and hungry they had the nails and hair to
do and still dreaming of the right man to rescue them of this
ennui, prisoners of faded beauty and their former lovers
lived at the old folks home up the hill in the interior of Algarve
Yet I could not help feeling sorry for them helpless old age
stuck on a slow liner and no life raft, as they resignedly
waited to be engulfed by cold green sea and
Albufeira continued its dance around tourism a place for
the “hard working worker,” erasing what once had been
a peaceful fishing village along the coast of romance.
Whilst I hover here
wondering if i'll be sick
The hazy details of the nights debauchery
Become clearer with every retch,
And nothing.
Who took that photo with the silly face?
I really thought id be able to pace
Myself this time;
But its shouldnt's and never agains
all morning in the loo.
The bad techno and overplayed hits
Still echop through my pounding head,
Recently obliterated by that dionysian nectar.
The midday sun now pours through my iris
Ill adjusted to to anything mut multicoloured strobes.
Another hopeful attempt to spew hits me,
Only to be met with dissapointment.
Cralwing from the linoleum jail,
I call a friend to reminisce
And hes the same as me, only he pulled and barely rememebers.
And so i enter the platic prison
for a last attempt to purge, but nothings there.
Looking in the mirror telles me to pull myself together,
A sparkling alka-seltzer cocktail takes the edge off
And I remember that hangovers only last a day,
whilst forgotten memories lie in obscurity forever.
I feel dull, I'm drowning in me.
It's worse than in a puddle of pee.
Gnawing at my wilting health,
I'm choking on my desperate self.
Dreaming of being something new,
slipping into hates cocoon.
Breaching up enough to see
reaching out to those like me,
and overplayed-with, used up tool,
Makes yourself a desperate fool.
Pictorial evidence of a moon beam dancing dangerously across a road with a stripped sun is only to be depicted by a jury who knows the sanity of true speech. Whereas a gutless cuttlefish could curd if left in the heat. For over three millenia a greedy goblin has baked human cakes but used land ovens. Land ovens are often incredibly hard to clean really. So grab a sponge early. Before it escapes on that plate. How odd the oddities correlated in an oval office original order of occupation. And a fathomable bag of whiskey and chips are best served in a large bath that dangles from a ceiling akin to a giant swing. Wee wee wee goes the small beetle. Giggling grabbing garters gathering goo. And a paste of pie. Never let it be said that an ornate dish can give orders to a kilo bag of organic potatoes. Ok then. Good. Eighty six miles with a whisk. Must be such a hurtling errand really. Wow. Fantastic isn't it. O overplayed lava of volcanic news in a lava launch. Hahaha tidal travelling trains..hahaha sitting shoes shaping sacks. Xxxxx cosmography z. With the p u q at the Z moment.
Pictorial evidence of a moon beam dancing dangerously across a road with a stripped sun is only to be depicted by a jury who knows the sanity of true speech. Whereas a gutless cuttlefish could curd if left in the heat. For over three millenia a greedy goblin has baked human cakes but used land ovens. Land ovens are often incredibly hard to clean really. So grab a sponge early. Before it escapes on that plate. How odd the oddities correlated in an oval office original order of occupation. And a fathomable bag of whiskey and chips are best served in a large bath that dangles from a ceiling akin to a giant swing. Wee wee wee goes the small beetle. Giggling grabbing garters gathering goo. And a paste of pie. Never let it be said that an ornate dish can give orders to a kilo bag of organic potatoes. Ok then. Good. Eighty six miles with a whisk. Must be such a hurtling errand really. Wow. Fantastic isn't it. O overplayed lava of volcanic news in a lava launch. Hahaha tidal travelling trains..hahaha sitting shoes shaping sacks. Xxxxx cosmography z. With the p u q at the Z moment.
Under the cover of night, a major mission.
The self-assured plot and scheme did not fail
because it was not well planned and executed.
Nor did the affair backfire due to neglect.
The people, dressed in their religion and politics,
unified themselves and became partners in crime.
Betrayal and manipulation were lovers of the
night, as corruption and hate ruled the day.
The timing was a matter of providence, and the wicked
perpetrators were more blind than they were ignorant
of matters most essential. Their spiritual blindness
flooded their nobility and orchestrated their failure.
The plotters did not know that the death of the
accused would be, not the end of their worries
about their power and status. Rather, it would be
the doom of everything they sought to accomplish.
The players were mere mortals being manipulated by
a sinister and evil master who OVERPLAYED HIS HAND.
I have never heard it better said than this: "Had they
known it, they would not have crucified The Lord of Glory"*.
111322PSCtest, Pick-A-Title, Vol. 33, Edward Ibeh
Title/Theme chosen: #4, Overplayed Hand.
*1 Corinthians 2:8. 2P