Best Overstepping Poems
Place and Time, Time in Place
I hear the mourning dove, her lonesome call
cooing softly, somewhere in the shade.
The sum holds steady
strong and blinding, high straight up in the midday haze.
The days of summer
creep to an end, as August sheds its heat.
In short and distant days ahead
autumn reaches in, with change and dying, withered leaves.
Each season takes its place and time
not overstepping, awaiting its turn.
Soon enough
too soon, perhaps, the seasons pass.
Time stands still
for no one, nothing, allowing only seasons change.
Moving forward, ever forward
years, decades, centuries, bringing all things, all futures, all pasts
to stake their place and time
while history alone, holds time in place.
Blasphemous mankind
Overstepping nature's laws.
Zeus's thunderbolts strike!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
17 February 2019
5-7-5
Friends take advantage of me;
they don't plan to, but they do.
After I have been their friend for a while,
betrayal often comes with a snide smile
that places the blame squarely upon me.
Defending themselves with lies,
they cut the bonds of friendship.
The ones I loved the most hurt me the most,
shielded by trust; they took me by surprise;
for I had craved their names into my heart.
In my youth, friends were plenty,
but time slowly thinned them out.
It hurts inside when I lose an old friend,
especially when they've stolen from me,
in light of everything I've done for them.
Kindness gets repaid with scorn,
even though I've done no wrong.
They accept no blame for treating me thus
and overstepping the bounds of friendship,
they tend to sneak off without looking back.
I count my friends on one hand,
and that makes my heart so sad.
When I close my eyes and drift away...
Resting my head on a cloud to pray...
I'm seeing purple butterflies across my sky...
With wings of an Angel that will keep them high...
It's your smile that brings these days...
Overstepping disbelief in the shadows of yesterday...
The sound of your voice to the wave of your hair...
As those purple butterflies dance around a circle in
a square...
My eyes fight to stay closed but the daylight steals
my dream...
Waiting for the sun to set so I can flutter down those
purple streams...
Mired in muck. Appendageless.
Sinking in shadowy whispers.
Surviving is senseless.
Eternity is a marathon with no bathrooms, no water, no finish.
I pray for light, Satan pulls the shades
No hope, no truth, no tomorrow.
I need a friend to throw me a lifeline
But they are all busy avoiding the muck.
Spinning on their cotton candy bridges.
They spew their words gilded with silk and honey
Dripping from forked tongues.
It's not until the subtle meanings catch the wind and scatter that the honey turns dark,
And thick, and makes their teeth black and their hearts dull.
I wait for the splash as another like me has had her life's bridge eaten by the acid of jealousy and fear.
She screams, "THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE!"
And the muck bubbles and shifts exultant
As it silences her cries and extinguishes her fire.
Laughter falls like shards of glass from above,
Because they know the truth but never speak it.
An unwritten oath that all jail keepers vow.
Lock the truth away like a bird in a cage until its colors fade, its feathers fall, and music is only a memory.
A man dangles from a swinging cord
Halfway between the mockers and the muck.
His white collar hurts our eyes
Smooth words of redemption that almost awaken my sleeping emotions.
But then the cord breaks, and faced with the truth of our existence
The man flees back to the bridge
Our heads his stepping stones as he escapes to the sterility above.
His collar stays white,
His hands clean.
His memory is short -- he doesn't even remember why he came.
Or who sent him. He is the lucky one.
Memory haunts me. I long to forget:
How to love
How to hurt
How to breathe.
My cocoon of woe promises no future flight
It's a straight jacket of hate
And my prayers just bounce off the padded walls.
I need a knight; I get only night.
I need a hand; I get a slap.
I need understanding; I get overstepping.
I know three things:
1. Nothing will ever be the same.
2. I will never trust again.
3. You cannot will a heart to stop beating.
Sleep is my only friend, death my only goal.
That is the truth that will set me free.
Rare are those among us
who gain wisdom without errors,
without overstepping a line
we are not allowed to go beyond,
without daring to be different
from what we are expected to be.
Yet they're the ones who do the
perilous trailblazing for most of us,
who map out the constraints we can
outgrow and must overcome,
who, in the frenzy of finding out what's
beyond, must draw the first blood!
Rare are those among us
who gain wisdom
without errors,
without overstepping a line
we are not allowed
to go beyond,
without daring to be different
from what we are
supposed be.
Yet, they're the ones who do
the perilous trailblazing
for all of us,
who map out the constraints
that we can outgrow and
must overcome,
who, in the frenzy of finding out
what's beyond, must draw
the first blood!
Resourcing faith, resolve, resolve
conforming brace of how
consigning brackets of identity, not slow
the entry of concern, between friend's row!
Yet, still enduring, we are them, their vow
this loneness of reserve, the leader's power
conserves some owning of their toilsome plow,
ne'er freedom is their choice, we rostrum flow!
Conviction, is it changing, holding stow
I am in constant danger, yet I show
ne'er fault, impartiality must go,
involving loss, my prayer is fairness more!
Now, join some unity of truth, the platform's scroll
my life, your life, let virtue breech, not row
the national incentive, debt's bestow
nor words impounding, restoring condone!
The truth's reserve, secession's teaming call
that space of joining, allies not disown ~
my ally, we are here, this cost we know
security's contention grossly stalls!
Where action is the limit, we face haul
consulting with our interests, trusts install
that destiny, called choice, reverses, mauls
may just be my endowment, just my soul?
Or all mankind at purpose, answers hone
to this our enemy is still at throne
the sterile overstepping overthrow
this outright pose, this policy's control!
Erosion not the strength of freedom's prone
this break up, not my cause, as God, disown
still showing honor's back-up, not renown
in earnestness compile, nor allies roam!
Up front, an ever pressing, selfless stone
the brink of character, so evermore
that freshness could sow on, immortal's cone
true learning, listening, never cursing's thrown!
To test our weakness, I would cringe somehow
that courage, entity, seems all condone
is interference' monitor's bestow
I plant in some forgiveness factor's cull!
Diplomacy's contain, the jewels roll
ne'er in that wearing coat of idol's bloat
this right or wrong, my energy console
does eke not my transmission's holding core!
He found the road long and lonely.
From this seemingly endless trek to monotony,
He wished to enter a world, luminous and exciting;
A world spun in iridescent colors and shades.
He ventured to experiment with life
And in due course slipped into psychedelic pleasures.
As curls of cigarette smoke
Were expelled out from his nostrils
He floated on waves of psychedelic delight.
A buzzing sensation swept across all his nerves.
Overstepping the margins of reason
He slipped into a state of altered reality
Euphoria pulsed through his body from head to foot
Got transported into a fantasy world.
He savored the explosions of joy bubbles
And indulged in strange sensory delights.
The hippie culture cast a magic spell in him.
Fell in love with the insidious drug LSD
And often retreated into an illusory paradise,
With nothing tormenting his body or mind,
Reveling in the bliss of its comforting warmth.
The drug became part of his daily routine.
He experienced moments so surreal
Felt flying, floating and soaring in ether.
Living hallucinogenic, he didn’t know
How to keep himself sane or become light headed,
Without a hit of heroin or cocaine.
He was getting addicted to it day by day.
But the drug was slowly proving chaotic.
The pleasant short term therapeutic outcome of the drug
Was overshadowed by many of its tormenting effects
Exposed to irritability, fatigue, spasms and tremors,
He was becoming a menace to himself and others.
Relying on the drug always to fend off his affliction,
He was like an insect trapped in a web
And a hungry arachnid spinning shackles around him.
Thus, from psychedelic pleasures,
He moved into psychedelic trauma.
It’s tricky when you give advice
Without somebody asking,
For even if your words are heard,
The truth takes some unmasking.
It’s easy overstepping bounds
To offer an opinion
But often, you just trespass
On what isn’t your dominion.
It’s hard to know what someone thinks
For feelings might stay hidden
And honesty, though touted,
In the real world seems forbidden.
So you should tread most carefully
When offering advice,
‘Cause tipping apple carts sure isn’t
Worth the sacrifice.
Can I advise you something
One's right can never be
Simply questioned
No advice is welcome
People don't like advice
A matter of humiliating
A matter of meddling
A matter of overruling
A matter of overstepping
Any advice must be surfaced
In proper procedures
It must be said in a nice way
With politeness
With good words
With limits
No abuse of course
But everyone must behave
Well and wisely
So that no advice is ever needed
A Myth Reconciled
The earth is flat on the surface and hollow inside as the sky holds the
bubble intact unless we tempt the Gods and the firmament crashes from
our heaven above loyal to mythological narrative yet so close to the truth
Earth wind water and fire at the core of beliefs with underworld looming
and still adventurous minds were testing the limits overstepping the mark
Pseudoscience today follows the pattern refutes philosophical insight
elevates paradigmatic errors and dogma unsound premises and greed
With nuclear fission and fusion of power with arrogant megalomania
the earth has become a flat pack of lies distortions inventions and demise
Humankind is hollow inside minds of our masters and the jubilant crowds
rejoice from snow globes of miscreant media adorn delusions of progress
Contaminated earth waters polluted fires brewing in smithies of weapons
we must have forgotten that he or she who sows wind may harvest all storms
Myths allude to the euphemistic description of fake news which are really
propaganda engaged in a contest whose falsehoods are the ones to succeed
When the dust of collusion has settled and radiation proceeds we may come
to rue our ignorance and reconcile for the chance that the myth was no myth
30th May 2017
I
Which time is better?
Which season is better?
Which companion is better?
Which age is better?
Were some of my thoughts as......
I carried my drowsy cherub on my shoulders
cautiously walking in my garden
so that sleep is not disturbed
by my overstepping any cobble.
The night air was perfumed
by the queen of nights
loyally growing by my dark casements
and swaying with the mild waft of winds.
I smiled at my innocent bairn,
as she smiled in her dreams,
making me wonder,
do these angels
also laugh and play
in their kingdom of dreams?
Her head on my shoulder,
her left hand holding me tightly
around my nape,
her limp body cozily snuggling,
breathing her warmth onto my neck,
made me hug this child from heaven
even more tightly than before.
Her vulnerability and dependance
on a human whom she cannot judge
pushed my stubborn heart
Into caressing and kissing
the soft cheeks of God's miniature self.
I entered the uncreaky greased doors,
tip-toeing to her satiny crib,
laying my dew kissed angel,
who had been lulled to sleep,
on her peachy pillow.
I lovingly watched overhead,
enjoying to see my bud bloom steadily.
With time, and in every season
I will watch her grow of age
till my moppet will hold my hand
and lead me into her kingdom of love.
Balveen Cheema
August19, 2015
Give me a reason
By Michelle Morris
05/03/2023
Give me a reason to believe you
That this is the honest truth
No lies disguised with a smile
Not a character storyline you use
Give me a reason to trust you
That this time will be different
No overstepping boundaries
Taking advantage of my kindness
Give me a reason to have hope
That we can make it work
That you aren't playing a game
Where the chessboard is in your head
Give me a reason to have love
To keep holding it close to my heart
Instead of letting it fly free forever
Into the Universe filled with stars
© Michelle Morris, 2023
The python comes with cameras
Offers to take photos of lion’s family cabs
He admits and congratulates the python
Then when he opens his eyes to see things
He sees whole family in the python stomach
The foolish lion keeps singing
The flood comes with canoes
Asks to carry lions’ subjects to safe land
He welcomes the mercy of the floods
Then pocks his ears expecting good news
He hears mourning-cry of drowning subjects
This foolish lion keeps singing
The future comes with biscuits in bags
Tells lion to exchange them for idle bushes
He hugs the future praising it for its charity
Then he waits for future to go, get and go
He sees the future overstepping the deal norms
But the foolish lion keeps on singing
Then death comes dressed in golden linen
Invites lion to enroll his family as choir of angels
He welcomes holy gestures of smart guest
Then he sits waiting for angel-choir to appear
A shock! Disarmament, paws, jaws plucked
Foolish lion weeps bitterly to the zoo