Best Pointlessly Poems
(In 1807, Beethoven wrote a piano/violin
piece with this title. Count Leo Tolstoy
followed in 1890, with a short novel of the
same name, in which he argued that
matrimony can never work.)
What is a marriage? A fusion, or a tether?
Two very different creatures, yoked together?
I was a piano, you a violin:
I, solid, calming, you, discordant, thin,
and laced with bitterness. I was your base,
and you provided brio, flourish, grace.
A lacewing trapped inside a window frame,
yet driven by one blind, unchanging aim,
you struggled up until, played out, defeated,
you fluttered down again, debased, depleted.
A war's a love affair, and love's a war.
We're so inept - or what's a heaven for?
A nest of wasps, my grievances boiled over -
but could there ever be a vita nuova?
We never learned. I hammered pointlessly,
while you abraded. Why could we not see?
And so I played it stately, sad, no frills,
while you kept up your repetitions, trills
and variations. Hovering and wary,
you shunned my structures. Ever more contrary,
you coiled and squirmed in spasms both continuous,
spontaneous, free-wheeling, lithe and sinuous.
It seemed to me the harmony had gone:
we sang on, yes, but each a separate song.
Two butterflies together, intertwined,
we tangled on the same, but different, line.
Categories:
pointlessly, marriage, relationship,
Form:
Couplet
dreams tucked in my pocket as I journey through life
sometimes swept away by chilling breezes
but reach for them again, I will
recapture them
they’ve taken me this far
like a compass, they give me direction
lost I’d be without my dreams
pointlessly going through the motions
lifelong companions
dreams I will carry until my last day
*Entry for Leighann Anderson's "Free for All" contest.
Categories:
pointlessly, introspectionme,
Form:
Free verse
Here’s what I’m thinking now
at the end of the world:
There are no atheists in foxholes—
no theists in politics.
If knowledge is power,
and power corrupts,
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero?
Does it matter that I didn't’t love you?
Would it have mattered if I did?
There’s a poetry reading tonight
whence I’I'll chide other poets
who don’t sit alone.
I won’t bring up death
but I might have to breathe,
even into a mike
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo
maybe even a wince or two.
Just maybe I’I'll talk about love
and how following your heart is like following a dog—
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs).
But how many times have I used that line
since the story I wrote about you,
a witty and sexy and fictional you?
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you.
I won’t recite it from memory
because I don’t think about you that much anymore,
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me,
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes?
I don’t remember your eyes
except they are blue.
And I don’t remember you,
not even when I smell cucumber and apple,
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed
or when you walk through the door
happy to see me;
even then I don’t remember you.
Does it matter that I don’t love you?
Would it have mattered if I did?
How about a few one-liners
for the end of days?—
Depression is self-awareness,
which you’d know if you were;
I need Ritalin to listen to you,
Lithium to hug you,
Viagra to feel you,
and Valium to sleep.
All you need
is me standing there, waiting at home
with turns of phrase and word plays
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand
but want to buy as much as I can
and how I love celebrity gossip
and detest poetry slams
and find rhyming trite
except when I am.
Hypocrites can still be right,
which you do understand
because you nod at my nonsense
about fighting the man.
But now, at the end of all things—
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read,
and you’re just sitting there, smiling
asking me to pass the bread.
Categories:
pointlessly, angst, confusion, death, depression,
Form:
Blank verse
I went searching for-
that little child who cuddled in her mother's arms,
those tender feet that jumped in rain,
that little heart which melted for a kiss,
those twinkling eyes that gleamed in the moonlight.
I enquired the oak tree about-
one little nose that smelt the early morning jasmines,
an enthusiastic voice that sang the stories of the sky,
those tender fingers that brilliantly belted out the piano,
that curly hair which locked the light of life securely in it.
I kept on searching for those red ribbons, that blue tunic and those black shoes which accompanied the girl to her school
I walked all the way right from her study table to her office desk following her footprints to get some detail of her
I ran amidst the woods where she breathed the pure early morning air
I checked the cabins of the city metro that seated her comfortably when she choked for breath.
Her spectacles had no answer to any of my questions regarding her whereabouts
Her golden ring lied lifeless on the table having lost its royal glory
Her favorite shoes are still waiting for the mountain trekking event.
Her black bike had no answer when I asked why it's engine is never ignited.
Her friends still kept her number in their contact list pointlessly waiting for a text message from her.
Her boyfriend silently walked into his office cabin and seriously worked on his assignments - he'ld probably never smile again
Her mother sat on the dining table with two plates in front of her-she'ld probably never realise that the food remains untasted forever.
Categories:
pointlessly, absence, death, fate, goodbye,
Form:
Free verse
Bye Cookie Monster!
Pointlessly martyred by the
Political left.
Categories:
pointlessly, absence, childhood, chocolate, death
Form:
Senryu
Empty spaces, filled with broken places and faces
As I count the paces between these once beautiful places
I notice that I am trapped in a hollow, draining, unrelenting stasis
A vortex of sorrow, that makes the soul forever wallow
Once kind souls able to cherish, now filled with snarls able to perish
With pointed remarks so cold, lays waste to the one who shall behold
Angled gazes turned away, now giving praises to the one once claiming betray
On a lonely summers day, with good reason, decided to stay away
The ignition to the source, of a volatile resource
Without any recourse, pointlessly hoping for a sign of remorse
As he ponders his unexplained treason, he struggles to find reason
For once was hailed as a star, now left adrift, no rig or spar
As he finds his own way, dawn brings the promise of a new day
As we strive for a better tomorrow, we get approbation for wisdom we appropriate and borrow
Yet situations go amiss, leaving us flummoxed and perplexed wondering in an abyss
But we all get up some day, feeling stronger and seeking a new way
Finding that providence, will renew our confidence
Categories:
pointlessly, betrayal, conflict, confusion, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
Sometimes I wonder where I am in the scheme of things;
I often ponder who I am.
The more I age the more epiphany's I get;
each of them making a different man.
Yesterday's me could never foresee who I am now.
I can't pretend I'm not surprised.
Who I have become seems to be a stranger to me,
It's like I'm looking through another man's eyes
Who am I, who are you, who are we
Whoever we are, is it who we should be?
Is there a reason for all this, is there something I missed
that could tell me definitively
Who I am, who you are, who are we
Do you ever wonder if there's more than meets the eye;
something's afoot behind the scenes?
Is there a point to this life we live pointlessly,
that couldn't be imagined in our dreams?
Do tears cried throughout the years, have purpose in the end,
or should we weep more because they don't?
I think everyone should seek for a reason in life
There's no chance of finding meaning if you won't
Who am I, who are you, who are we
Whoever we are, is it who we should be?
Is there a reason for all this, is there something I missed
that could tell me definitively
Who I am, who you are, who are we
Why did I bring this all up anyway
Just sharing thoughts as I think of a tune
I guess I just had to get it all out
as I write me a song in my room;
musing on life as I do
Who am I, who are you, who are we
Whoever we are, is it who we should be?
Is there a reason for all this, is there something I missed
that could tell me definitively
Who I am, who you are, who are we
© L. James Tanner
Categories:
pointlessly, introspection, wisdom,
Form:
Lyric
Whatever you do, don’t jinx it!
Don’t mess up something pointlessly!
If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it!
I’ve heard these words repeatedly.
I tend to over analyze--
(Whatever you do, don’t jinx it!)
Not a good thing, I realize.
She loves you. Don’t over-think it.
Her heart is tender. Don’t break it!
Even though this might sound sappy.
Whatever you do, don’t jinx it!
Do your best to keep her happy.
One day she might end up your wife;
If you break her heart, then fix it!
In case she’s the love of your life,
Whatever you do, don’t jinx it!
Categories:
pointlessly, care, friendship, funny love,
Form:
Quatern
One particularly memorable critic referred to me as a neckbeard in a conversation with a friend this morning. Both of the twats were skinny, pencil-head net-dweebs, the types who frequent cesspools such as reddit.com or 4chan.org. I observed that both geeks were clad in t-shirts emblazoned with figures from Asian cartoons. I laughed to myself, and remarked that fans of Anime should not mock bearded men simply because their own kinds are maligned for their pointlessly lazy grooming. The offending dorks cohort cackled and muttered 'total neckbeard, man.' More cackling. I reached into my pocket and gripped my mini-kunai, which was sheathed into the waistband of my sweatpants, but released the grip and smiled at my antagonists. They needed no punishment. Their only crime was being stupid and hive-minded. I proceeded to the next table, this entire incident having taken place in a McDonald's dining room, and overheard their conversation, a robotic exchange of very old memes and esoteric World of Warcraft lingo. Their odious laughter filled the store, triggered by loudly shouted acronyms pronounced phonetically, such as LOL and ROFL. The couple sitting at the booth across from me was giggling in embarrassment at the idiocy, and the employees looked capable of homicide. I however, lounged lazily in the corner, feasting, the
Neckbeard Warrior at rest.
Categories:
pointlessly, blessing,
Form:
Prose
Thud, skid, shriek... bash!
Subject to a crash,
From audience to casualty,
Paying a futile penalty,
This unexpected political revolt,
Instantaneously uprises the search for whom to fault,
Alerting of authorities and people through news,
Help on its way as chaos builds-up and fear brews,
Shock and panic spreads, time becomes endless,
Dialling with not answer, agitated and relentless,
The seconds stretch out, unbearably grasping the phone,
Engulfed in sheer isolating fear- on the edge of the unknown,
Reality begins to turn gory and glim,
In an instant from civilian to victim,
Wishing you had stayed home instead,
As you're filtered from those that lay dead,
Contemplating distraught, confusion and regret,
This pain, shock and fear- you will never forget,
As you shed your first post-traumatic cry,
They say you're 'lucky' you didn't die,
Still amidst the debris several phones ring continuously,
Police scurry, pulling back family members searching hopelessly,
Behind the line hysterical fathers, wives, siblings... awaiting,
Whilst most mourn, pointlessly politicians are left debating...
Categories:
pointlessly, conflict, confusion, crazy, death,
Form:
Rhyme
Skinned knees, sad eyes,small smile
She's rotten inside.
Veins broken, shredded skin, bloodshot eyes and shattered bones.
Scraping noises ring out as her feet
Drip across the floor.
Silent wails escape her mouth
As she claws at the door.
Don't judge me.
Wandering pointlessly
Never stopping.
Round and around.
Scrape, scrape.
Don't judge me.
She's tired, she's broken but she can't stop.
She can't stop because she's dead.
Don't judge me.
She is caged inside.
Inside my soul.
She is broken and so am I.
She is dead and so am I.
She is gone and I will be soon.
Don't judge me.
Categories:
pointlessly, absence, betrayal, bullying, heartbroken,
Form:
Free verse
The storm just threw and swirled
Paints of grey, black and dark blue
All over our Earthly dome
Like a rageful Pollock.
Wondrous,
The noise and the lightning
Turned us small
The waves of flood
Slamming against the feeble constructions
Carrying away cars,trees and dogs
Making me think
Of Thor, Iansã and Zeus
Neglecting all I've learned about
electrons behavior and magnetism
To think of gods from ancient times
Perhaps acknowledging
How extraordinary and dreadful a tempest is
Some people let the storm in
Pointlessly trying to run somewhere
Only to be carried away
And increase the general tension
How long could this last?
How far will it go?
How harder can this wind blow?
What if this...
And what if that?
How long can a minute last?
We look at each other eyes
A scared silent crowd
Looking for the same instinctive answers
Then as if the painter
Had changed his mind
The darkness is gone
Cleaned with a cloth wipe
The rough wind is now a soft breeze
Blowing the fragrances of earth and eucalyptus
Up my nostrils and over my face
The clouds are revolving
With light shades of grey and magnolia white
Over the most beautiful of all blues
There's a deep heavy silence
A few muffled and distant sounds
Or perhaps it's only me
Caught in a dimensional current
To share with all those humans before me
The feelings of bewilderment and impotence
In face of Nature's outbursts
And with a grateful soul
To finally understand
How the seeds of hope
Could repeatedly be sown and grown
In the human heart
Since the beginning of times.
Categories:
pointlessly, natural disasters, nature, rain,
Form:
Free verse
A GLIMPSE OF HELL
dark smoke and ashes testify
devastation
orange sun glows through the haze
hauntingly
cruel fierce flames soar scorching
territory
epitomizing
a glimpse
of hell
houses burnt to the ground in
amputation
natures creatures dazed in fires
traumatized
scalded and blistered die
pointlessly
symbolizing
a glimpse
of hell
the valiant fight and endure
courageously
parched lips and bloodshot eyed
dedication
we stand reminded that without
Salvation
an Eternal
damnation
awaits us
detonating
a glimpse
of hell
© Kim van Breda—4 March 2015
(Devastating Cape Town/S. Africa mountain fires March 2015)
Categories:
pointlessly, environment, fire, natural disasters,
Form:
Free verse
Man to blame,
Once again to his shame,
His record continues to destroy !
The beauty he did not create, nor can he save…
He will never learn how to properly behave…
Nature screams pointlessly once again ?
Fearing where next we’ll drill ?
Gulf oil spill.
Categories:
pointlessly, animals, business, caregiving, death,
Form:
Marooned on an island where the sun never sets
Where the sky's always tinged a certain hue
We'll party along with all the other guests
Our mood will be a brashly-subtle reddest blue
We'll be free to run slowly through our waking sleep
Pushing through that pleasurable pain
Tell each other stories filled with honest lies
And then tell them for the first time, once again
We could sit around the fire eating jumbo shrimp
We'll declare that they're disgustingly delicious
Pretend they're awfully good when cooked under wet flames
While admitting that they're pointlessly nutritious
And our troubles would be few, growing smaller every day
Though the deafening silence could be bitter sweet
If we're found to be missing, our hope could soar like lead balloons
As even-odds, they'll send a rescue fleet
The open secret will always be, that we wanted to remain
That our leaving there was filled with such sweet sorrow
They'll be right and they'll be wrong, for we truly understand
There are wise fools and ordered chaos each tomorrow
Categories:
pointlessly, fun,
Form:
Rhyme