Best Pessimist Poems
When young I heard the glass was either ½ empty or ½ full
But with time I learned… to believe either one makes you a fool
My health made me battle from the almost empty place
But I came to see that… your life is not a glass or a race
I always worked to fill my cup to the ½ full point… and beyond
To compare my life to others always made the pessimist spawn
Optimist or pessimist is more than some kind of… point of view
They are each an integral part of what makes you… you
The pessimist is a part of everyone’s make up… that can make us give up
The optimist is an acquired trait… that has to be constantly built upon
Fight the pessimist who can bring you nothing but sadness and despair
Nurture the optimist that gives you the chance… to do and go anywhere
The optimist can give you self-respect and the chance to do great things
It can make your heart and your soul soar… and to grow great wings
It’s a way of life that can add to your existence and also others
Which way of life, you cultivate, says how much, you’ll see of life’s wonders
You see: Your cup is never ½ empty or ever ½ full… Life is a work in progress
So never give up… Look for ways, in this world, to bless
And why let anything stop you? It is a hard fight, to some times win...
But will be very gratifying… if you keep trying… until the end.
Written by Carol Eastman 11-7-2015
They say life is short;
I say it's not short enough...
And the rainbow after the storm
is just another fairy tale.
Sure, when one door closes
another door opens...
But who's to say what's on the other side
will turn out to be good?
Those attached
lust after the freedom of not being
and the supposed lucky singles
desperately seek to be attached.
Everything we don't have,
we MUST have;
And all that we have,
we don't need...
(until it's gone, of course)
How ideal if all things were perfect...
No problems, no worries, just joy...
But then you'd call it boring
The optimist looks down at me with pity
But at the end of the day
When the world fails you
Who's the one that's disappointed?
An optimist and pessimist were sitting in the park,
Their outlooks as divergent as the light is to the dark.
“I think this will be over soon,” the optimist declared.
The pessimist just looked at her as if she were impaired.
“Our lives will never ever be the ones we used to lead,”
The pessimist asserted, but her buddy disagreed.
“You’ll see, before you know it, all will be just like before,”
The optimist responded, a believer to the core.
Their argument continued, each convinced that she was right,
Not seeing any grays at all between the black and white.
Yet time will tell whose thoughts pan out, for now the world’s a mess
And I don’t see it going back. (My side? Well, take a guess!)
I’m a Pessimist
We will cry even more
The misery will increase
The suffering won’t stop
We won’t get away from life with ease
We are the gloomy creatures
We are sentenced to grief
What life but a nice covered book
We read, but nothing firmed in mind
The kitsch dominate the art
Wars run the world
And hate heads the chart
Love will diminish
We are heading to perdition with a leash
Made with solid gold and vile wish
Can we flee this darkness?
Can’t we just life break and build an utopia
I’m sick of sharing the oxygen
With wolverine people, bloody monsters
And haters whom pop up with no reason
The elements of life are five
Hypocrisy, hate, blood, lies and some love
We are brain-cuffed with something with something the call school
Pressed with something they call traditions
Free yourself with something they call art
And the pressure will finally lessen
But sometimes I think quieting life
Because them crazy bald heads as Bob Marley said
Will eat up you corn and ask for more bread
Because money is time and time is money
They kill more children, chewing their gummy
Simply because we are human-beings
We will kill each other and branch to several teams
Maybe you’ll say I’m a pessimist, in life I can’t pass
And if you ask: ‘’ how can you describe the glass is it half empty or half full?’’
I’ll say… it’s a foggy glass
THE REALISTIC PESSIMIST
Is it about life or death?
Is it about death or birth?
If it is about death, and not life or birth,
So be it
You either love or hate
You can choose to hate or date
If you choose to hate, and not love or date,
So be it
Is it about success or failure?
Is it about failure or progress?
If it is about failure, and not success or progress,
So be it.
Is it about winning or losing?
Is it about losing or victory?
If it is about losing, and not winning or victory,
So be it
Is it about food in excess or famine?
Is it about famine or eating?
If it is about famine, and not food in excess or eating,
So be it
Is it about commending or condemning?
Is it about condemning or extolling?
If it is about condemning, and not commending or extolling,
So be it
Is it about freedom or slavery?
Is it about slavery or liberty?
If it is about slavery, and not freedom or liberty,
so be it.
I’m as certain about this, as anyone can be
Disaster awaits me, just wait and see
I’m not a worrier; well not any more… But!
You never know what knocks at your door
A positive outlook is all I need
The kind of thinking that’s guaranteed
To see me through the toughest of day’s… But!
Disaster can strike in so many ways
Things will be alright on the day?
Well maybe sometimes, don’t quote me, ok
No sense worrying, it may never happen … But!
Maybe it will, what do you reckon?
Be optimistic see the bright side of life
Pessimists worry, about all the gloom and strife
Life can be richer, balanced between the two… But!
I’m not sure. What about you?
Philip Royle copyright © 2012
Part I - The Pessimist
I am a person without a name
I am a fire without a flame
I am a flower that will never bloom
I am a house without a room
I am a candle that will never melt
I am a feeling that cannot be felt
I am a picture without a frame
I am a goal, without any aim
I am a winner without a prize
I am a party without a surprise
I am a dreamer without a dream
I am a river without a stream
I am a poem without a rhyme
I am a clock that won't show you the time
I am a portrait without a face
I am a trial without a case
I am a key that won't open the door
I am a toy you don't want anymore
I am a bird that forgot how to fly
I am a joker, but I always cry
I am a thing that was never in use
I am a game that somebody will lose
I am a story that will never end
Well, I'm just somebody you won't understand.
:(
Part II - The Optimist
I am a person with a beautiful name
I am a fire with most powerful flame
I am a flower that will always bloom
I am a house with room after room...
I am a candle that burns through the night
I am a feeling of lovers' delight
I am a picture with a solid frame
I am a healer, I carry no shame
I am a winner with the top, 1st place prize
I am a party with the biggest surprise
I am a dreamer with colorful dreams
I am a river with thousands of streams
I am a poem with a perfect rhyme
I am a clock that will show any time
I am a portrait of an angelic face
I am a trial with a strong, worthwhile case
I am a key that unlocks any door
I am a toy you will always adore
I am a bird that soars high in the sky
I am a joker, I forgot to cry
I am a thing that you'll always use
I am a game that you just cannot lose
I am a story that will never end
I am a trip! Come, join me my friend!
:)
1999
© Copyright
What ere were warm, inviting open doors,
To this man maudlin and defeated kind,
Unsure, frightened, his dog-tail tucked behind,
He now finds shut, keys lost at far off shores.
Asked of voyage, on adverse winds he whines,
Given a choice from a pair of evils,
He chooses both— he who to doubt inclines,
One sure can’t go wrong with his choice of ills.
Here’s him— lion’s gait with vigour and vim,
He minds no doors getting shut on his face
And looks a sure shot like a tennis ace,
Belief in him bouncing like rising cream,
All odds-against ciphered, game on a deuce,
And a shot that turns all don’ts unto dos!
_____________________________________________
Poet’s note: “To a pessimist, his opportunities look like difficulties.
To an optimist, the difficulties are like opportunities.”
I think it was Harry Truman who said this.
This Sonnet takes off from what he said.
Sonnets | 10.09.2012, revised April 2022 |
My youthful friend, when I was a lad
such as you, I was dismayed to find
that running a stick across the lathes of a fence
did not make music.
My hopes were the regular beat of a stick
on slats would compose a song.
It scratched the bright, white paint of the pickets,
it oscillated my hand,
it made a noise equal to the rhythm
of my steps but it did not make music.
Remember this sad story, my young fellow,
so that you too will learn;
life’s expectations should not be too splendid
for I fear you will find it is the only
means by which your disappointments
are diminished.
Maybe it's been the same for you,
When nothing is out of the blue,
Just a monotony of predictable,
Surrounded by a glut of tangibles.
When the sun becomes a burning nuisance,
And the rain an inconvenience,
Autumn leaves are just a mess,
And flowers an allergic stress.
Slowing down seems an option taken away,
Life's just blurry days,
Words are said but not heard,
Ain't it a wonderful world.
to him
there's no s u n
in the sky;
c l o u d s
above him
gray...
day to day,
season to season
to the whole world
alabaster white
to him,
hope is
a mere illusion,
a boat
with all of life
aboard,
s u b m e r g i n g
in the sea,
but...
to the rest
of us
it's a boat
afloat
smooth-sailing
o v e r
the rising tides.
No word from you, is
Like expecting a kiss, but
Getting slapped instead
8/3/11
Received 3rd place in "Sayings of Wisdom" contest
The optimist,tells the pessimist
...........not to be so cynical,
but,it is hard to resist laughing
..........at developing satirical
Adornments of mother nature
aren't evil,hellish caricatures
sunken uncomely creatures
with somewhat similar features,
but,whom's to weigh and measure
as we return with our treasure,
understanding from endeavors
wrought out from pain and pleasure...
The pessimist tells me it doesn't matter
it's almost time to quit this pitter-patter
but...the optimist just wants to clear the air,
find something or someone who really cares....
Only we,can know personally,
the amount of treasure in our storehouse.....
(as published in Switch Poetry/Prose magazine - 2017)
what apparition takes joy in
the patient anticipation of pain or,
is it just me, who at the height of elation
still glances for... prowling shadows
disguised with smiles;
Cheshire cats of our own invention, yet
beautiful in their gate - or
is it gloating
perpetual probabilities ; confident chameleons
who morph undetected even
in our gaze, because they are we
a game never won - evolution where
the prey's fate is
inevitable and
self inflicted
the kittens will wait to be fed on the doorstep,
and we will feed them
Time and fate have mocked us all,
be we great or be we small.
The same temptations Jesus thwarted
the Church, I fear, has ofttimes courted.
Luther preached before the throne:
"The just shall live by faith alone."
Yet ""freedom" in a peasant's ears
filled great lords with dread and fears.
"Workers, unite!" was Karl Marx's plea.
The aftermath is plain to see.
A pacifist brought forth the bomb,
a paradox God save us from.
Man's fate, which lies beyond our ken,
must be:
(for optimists:) to fail and strive again.
(for pessimists:) to strive and fail again.