Best Perspectives Poems
A Child's Thanksgiving Prayer
Lord, I thank thee as I sit to eat,
For mashed potatoes that I helped to make.
And thanks, dear Lord, we're having something sweet.
Besides the beets and peas, there's pies and cake!
I thank thee for the sweet potatoes too
‘Cause Mom put tiny marshmallows on top.
They melted into white and taste goo;
Bless Mom, this time her cooking didn't flop!
And thanks, dear Lord, my cousins came today.
I only get to see them once a year.
It snowed, and so we're going out to play.
Only my aunt Ruthie isn't here.
I'm glad she caught a cold. Forgive me, Lord.
It's just she talks so much we kids get bored.
A Dad's Thanksgiving Prayer
Thanks, Lord, for this day of our Thanksgiving.
I've got a nice long weekend thanks to thee,
Starting with what I call really living-
Football on TV for me to see.
I'm thankful for this turkey on the table,
And for my wife, who bought it at the store
Even though she had to read the label
On how to cook the thing and even more . . .
Because this was her first time hosting dinner,
There was a lot my poor wife had to learn.
But the pumpkin pie turned out to be a winner,
And the gravy(which I love), she didn't burn!
And praise to thee, my kid is not as bad
As those that my wife's sister Annie had.
A Mom's Thanksgiving Prayer
I thank thee, Lord, for this Thanksgiving Day,
For helping hands to clear away this mess;
For snow to tempt the kids outside to play;
For all my family and the meal's success.
I haven't seen my sisters in a while.
Though Ruthie's gone, I'm glad we all can chat.
The men are in the den. Each wears a smile.
They're chugging Buds and happy getting fat.
I'm thankful too that Mom and Dad are here.
They're taking all the kids to see a show
Tomorrow while the men are drinking beer.
I hope nobody gets into a row!
Bless Mom and Dad. The kids will have them hopping
(Especially Annie's kids) while we're out shopping!
For PD's "Gobble, Gobble, Gobble.. any food, thanksgiving
or turkey poem CONTEST.. Poetry Contest"
There is so little space I could give in my skies,
Every moon has left a whole cluster of clouds full of lies,
I cannot unclog a product polluted in disguise,
Don’t ask me to lay in your web you chose to improvise ,
I have seen too many oceans being mistreated for wastelands,
So don’t call yourself something that is drowning deep in quicksands,
When you are surrounded with the wind and all it’s forgiving hands ,
Don’t disrupt my diligence by your Petty demands,
Don’t even think about interrupting my silence ,
When all I could hear are traits of unforgiven violence ,
When all I did was extend some guidance ,
And all that lacked was to walk in patience ,
So let’s not speak of the truth ,
The truth which you failed to gift ,
To gift wrap in deceptions,
Deceptions mistaking my kindness for trust ,
Trust lost in your idea of confusion,
Confusion named as “issues”
Issues engraved in broken perspectives,
Perspectives from your cycle of imagination .
Painful Perspectives
Bullying in America
"About 77% of students have admitted to being the victim of of one type of bullying or another."
--www.bullyingstatistics.org
My stomach tightens once again
By now I know the drill
It doesn't matter what I do
Move on, scream out, stand still
My heartbeat throbbing louder now
As heavy footsteps near
My mouth, dry as a cotton ball
My shoulders hunch in fear
Suddenly, I feel the sting
My cheek turns cherry red
The smack has almost knocked me down
The pain shoots through my head
Now words so cruel they pierce my heart
I try to block the sound
My efforts useless yet again
Scars stain my soul deep down
I touch my flesh to feel it swell
My light begins to die
My head held low, I walk away
Too numb by now to cry...
"Approximately 30% of young people admit to bullying others."
---www.americanspcc.org
For me, each morning starts the same
No feelings, just routine
Commands and orders barked my way
"Get up! Get dressed! Get clean!"
I step into the blinding sun
Yet pause before I go
Just once to hear, "I love you dear."
The door slams; I should know
The sadness that I used to feel
Has slowly turned to rage
So off to school I stomp ahead
My heart locked in a cage
Not long after I arrive
I choose my timid deer
My heavy footsteps lead the way
Toward the scent of fear
My hand hits flesh; I feel relieved
To share my hidden pain
I utter words so cruel and vile
Too numb to feel ashamed...
"It is reported that 70.6% of young people say they have seen bullying in schools."
---www.americanspcc.org
Standing near my closest friend
I feel the tension rise
By now, I know what to expect
Not once am I surprised
My fingers tremble slightly still
As I await the scene
I fight the stinging in my eyes
Why is this world so mean?
I watch my best friend cower now
The same thing every day
I cringe for what's about to come
As predator seeks prey
My inner struggle swallows me
I long to take a stand
I fear the wrath if I intrude
Escape, I haven't planned
So helplessly I witness pain
Inflicted on my friend
I wish I had the courage to
Make the bullying end...
My functional parents loved us and each other.
I had all the perks of a stay at home mother.
At the age of five there were just two things to dread ~
the cowboy and gator that lived under my bed.
Army brat blues, poetry, song, freedom, love, dance,
guys and wearing denim in every circumstance
were the essence of me at fifteen on display.
Dad paid me ten dollars to wear a dress one day.
At thirty, I longed for down time with no stress tone.
I felt my life was a ‘get it done’ pressure zone.
Mom, executive assistant, homeowner, wife …
Day drowning grew my wishes to end the clock's strife.
Watch what you wish for is advice I did not take.
At fifty I lost the clock with a gained head break
that led to many trials for loved ones and me.
Bonded by faith, we learned all we could do and be.
My age will no longer be of concern to me
when I open the door and in walks seventy.
If I give it attention it might diminish
all that I believe I can both start and finish.
I respect all that you are;
all that you think;
even if we don't share the same perspective!-charma
The sparkly dress that spins so wide,
The secret garden where I hide.
My favorite doll with braided hair,
And chasing bubbles through the air.
What matters is my puppy's kiss,
A world of magic, play, and bliss.
And when the night begins to fall,
That Mommy holds me close and small.
The highest grade upon the test,
The heavy sigh inside my chest.
I wish that I could just fit in,
Instead of hiding in my skin.
What matters is the words he'll say-
The boy who turns his eyes away.
He knows I like him, yet he's still,
And silence hangs just like a chill.
The diamond ring, the wedding gown,
The roots we're sinking in this town.
The struggle of a busy life,
A daughter, woman, boss, and wife.
What matters now is making ground,
To keep the spinning wheels around.
To hold his hand when times are tight,
And know we'll make it through the night.
The silver strands among my hair,
The wisdom that I grew to wear.
The motherhood that leaves the nest,
The quiet place within my chest
What matters is the health we keep,
The simple joy of solid sleep.
To look at him across the space,
And see the years upon his face.
The morning sun upon the floor,
I do not chase the world anymore.
My wedding album on my knee,
A lifetime drifting back on me.
What matters isn't what I bought,
Or all the battles that I fought.
It's knowing that I loved it all--
The girl who learned to stand so tall.
Existence precedes essence,
or so I've been told.
And living in the Aesthetic
one can choose to question, or not choose at all
and float effervescently oblivious into the cosmos.
One longs for moral prospects of Karmic law,
but absurdism reigns Almighty
and at the base finds something raw; esoteric.
Yet, at the core of every human lies the query of life.
There are no answers;
the urge to question is enough.
I.
The red winged blackbird knows how hard it is for me to connect with humans.
But I can still share my joy over this bird with my mom, who is dying for a way in.
II.
I was just told today by my teacher that I have a learning disability.
I was sad, confused. But my mom, she was “furious” when she heard.
She’s a real go-getter, too, and she went and got them,
Made them stop calling me that.
But now, things are worse.
Teacher Brett doesn’t help me anymore.
He’s helping some other kid.
Things are much harder now.
III.
My name is Betsy and I’m 25-years old.
I love Panda Express orange chicken more than anyone else on the planet.
It isn’t the fanciest restaurant but it’s cheap and I can walk to it. (I hate cooking.)
Without the spirit of inclusion,
The persistence of my parents,
And my high school “inclusion facilitators,”
I’d most likely be institutionalized or in some group home.
Instead I give speeches to crowds of fancy adults
About the power of not giving up, the power of support,
And the path of independence it has provided me.
(Straight to the orange chicken.)
She needs to feel in love to drive aside the night,
I love to feel in love, ONE source of joy and light,
When love is not at home, she’s sad to be alone,
When love is not in sight, the world is mine to roam.
Beginnings bring disquiet, thoughts that might implode,
Anticipation puts my heart in singing mode,
A friend’s departure makes her shadows fall,
But I hear stranger’s voices lighting up the hall.
Experience has made her doubt her heart it seems,
While all my failures just enrich unending dreams,
Her mounting fear makes her the slave of every rule,
My foolish faith makes me a 'dead' God’s guileless fool.
She stands alone in following the crowd du jour,
While I’m more fascinated by a life impure,
Imputes blame to the victim’s of life’s latest farce,
While laughingly I stoop to kiss God’s ****.
Responsibility can’t live behind her door,
It must be me, (I know I’ve heard this line before.)
One lesson learned (defining sensibility),
Seems all that happen’s my responsibility.
So childlike in her need to feel that all is well,
It fills my soul to tell her, ‘Things are going swell,’
And though it’s true her doubts at times can cause me pain,
I hunger for the chance to tell her so again.
Oct. 12, 2014
Poet's Notes:
Man's redeeming strength, woman's affirming weakness! What makes the world go round! I find it works for me! Even when it's reversed! Viva la difference, viva la diversity! May we ever aspire to the giftings of those we love without jealousy, men learning that bending is not always a sign of weakness, and women learning to trust the strength that comes from God.
The lines...
1. My foolish faith makes me a 'dead' God’s guileless fool
is meant to be tongue in cheek, i.e., even if you thought you could prove that 'God is dead' I would continue to believe in God, your proof of no consequence. I am a questioning but mindless devotee I am afraid. No God is worse than death!
and
2. While I’m more fascinated by a life impure
simply means I take to heart Christ's teaching that no one has ever reconciled himself to God through his own effort, i.e.. justification by obedience (except Christ). If God/Christ can love the sinful you and I, shouldn't I? So yes Merov Tac (PH's resident Troll), that means I feel called by God to love even you, even though I personally hate your behavior.
being number one
wiggles underneath the rock
a spade descends
being number two
hides behind the rock
a foot falls
being number three
lays on top of the flat rock
skin to stone
being number four
perches atop the rock
shells crack
being number six
flies over the rock
guano falls
*who are the beings [do you see them in your head? I didn't tell you!]
**how big is the rock [did you see it in your head? I didn't tell you.]
*** how did what happen, happen? in line 3 did you see it in your head?
**** haiku and senryu are in the moment verses which require
showing not telling and the bulk of the poem is always in the readers mind
not the poets pen.
(I SEE)
anchored by stone spire, rising above ocean's swell; guidance her vision
5-7-5
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(I FEEL)
standing in shadows, shouldering the weight of waves; I am moon's harbour
5-7-5
For Poem Destroyer's Contest "In One Line" MONOKU
Written March 27 2016
When I think of time, I feel my limits of perspective. How can I understand ‘time’ before the universe was formed? Time must have existed before the material universe. If not, no change would have occurred. For us, time can be recognized only through changes. Of course, time exists even if we can’t recognise it. I believe that time doesn’t have a beginning, otherwise, time wouldn’t exist.
Even if we can’t figure out the beginning of time, we don’t deny this concept, our life is largely influenced by it.
Is there something else which we don’t understand the start of that exists? I believe God’s existence is also similar to the existence of time. God is the alpha and omega, no beginning and no end, but he has a huge influence on our life.
I know some want to say, humans made gods. I don’t want to talk about that now. I would just like to say that our perspectives do have limits.
Scarcely had dawn lit the town…
Nighties hugged tight around…
Onlookers at an overnight transformation…
Winter wonderland’s aspiration!
People light the fire and consider…
Let others go outside and take risks.
Only those truly dedicated few
Understand and act on loving neighbours, through
Getting everything prepared as they go…
Heavy clothing to protect from snow, they
Shovel roadways with their ploughs…
beer bloat
morning after
football Sunday
am I, or the bar
the consumer
I don't know
I had a good time
shot some pool
cracked some jokes
flirted with girls
not half my age
so vain
so pointless
so fun
journey coming
soon, so
shutting it down
redirecting energy
focus
vision
to what I want more
than football Sunday
a different land
a different people
I hope at least I
brain bloat
broader horizons
deeper insights
and sharper perspectives
than I afford myself here
...yeah
unto that end
I will exercise my mind
and body
un-glut, unclutter
minimalize
rid myself
of this
beer bloat
I'm channeled rhymes, perspectives of young poet late in life!
Evolving too, I hope to please, share reveries a wife
(Scheherazade) shows to her spouse (loved patrons, here confessed),
who fears both too, for wives do fail, find heads divorce their chest.
Attention found here couched in verse, two stanzas, four lines each,
all meant to praise, if questions raised, still purposed not to preach.
I hope to show some verse you share - reception won: song heard!
My warbled tweets tout gold I get
(signed)
brown, ear-catching bird.
Krakatoa Kritic #007
12/06/20