Best Predictability Poems
There's a place
a place I so long to go
distanced from the distractions
of the day
tilted and tucked away
far from the promised road
of yesterday's dream
Where the yellow fragrant flowers
only speak of love
each lucent petal pulling
at a piece of my heart
and the gentle breezes
holding me ever close
There's a place
a place I so long to be
where green spacious mountains
sing out towards the heavens
where abundant butterflies float
oh so gallantly
along crystal clear rivers
and with my thoughts
run fast and free
Oh leave that primrose path
and with the wind come along
embrace unknown possibilities
push past predictability
and live life with a visibility
at a pace that is meant to last
Categories:
predictability, beautiful, love, nature,
Form:
Free verse
With hair ablaze
a jester unconfined.
I scoffed at the mundane
its life declined.
My wardrobe
a riot
a rhapsody bold.
Mismatched socks my standard
stories untold.
In classrooms of tedium
rules I'd defy
Grasping forbidden knowledge
'neath watchful sky.
Craving for wisdom in
esoteric wells.
Chased squirrels with saws
casting fanciful spells!
Detentions for antics
the school's icy stare
Derided in classrooms
a spirit too rare.
Math teacher's scorn
a job painting lines foretold.
I retorted, "How much does it pay?"
- detention took hold.
Mom asked me why I never brought my girls home?
I chuckled and said, "They're not the type to be shown!"
The wild ones
the rebels
the ones full of flame.
Not the kind for a dinner
not the ones with a name.
Misfits my comrades
a menagerie strange.
United in chaos
defying the change.
Years danced in a blur a pantomime bright
But a disquieting word a sense of not quite right.
A whirlwind of antics a panoply grand
Impromptu escapes with career-shifting sands.
Near-death encounters with fauna
a squirrel, perhaps?
But the thrill
oh the thrill
fueled my madcap laps!
The thrill of the unexpected
a fading strain
A gnawing suspicion
a predictable bane.
The mask I had crafted
of rebellion's grand guise.
Cracked and revealed
the truth in my eyes.
The jester unmasked with a lesson I gained.
That the extraordinary in the ordinary
can be just plain.
No longer I chase the fantastical dream...
But accept the real where
beauty can stream.
For the truest defiance lies not in the fight.
But accepting oneself in the ordinary light.
So here I stand
flaws and all
unashamed.
The laughter remains though the fantasy's tamed.
With lessons in tow I'll mend and I'll mend.
Explore the mundane and find joy till the end.
For the greatest adventure
in life's simple quest...
Is finding the magic
within one's own breast.
Categories:
predictability, angst, character, conflict, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Hesitation
Just a moments delay
Lives change forever
Trajectory altered
Heading to the unknown
Why? Why?
I so liked my routine
The unchanging gives me security
Makes me feel safe
I like to control the outcome
Do I really control anything?
Allow me my illusions
If I am not the master of my own destiny,
to whom will I bow?
Predictability
Predictability is the blanket to which I cling
Hesitation has ripped it from my hands
I stand naked at the edge of wonder
Youthful vigor renewed
Alive once more
No safety net to cushion my fall
Yet I am not afraid
A stranger in a new land
Yet somehow I feel at home
The unfamiliar is strangely comforting
I am powerless but to continue forward
Heart matches each new step
The unknown becomes known
New routines are established
Oh how I like my routines
Predictability is draped over my shoulders
My life is different
Yet my pattern remains the same
I'm left to ponder
Perhaps I should hesitate once again
Categories:
predictability, introspection, me, me,
Form:
Free verse
ANOTHER AFRICAN DAWN
The silence of the dawn even before
the first bird sings its unique little composition to the world
crispness of the previous night fills the air
encouraging a deep breath of purity before daily issues pollute
how easy it is to replace this beautiful time of the day
perceived importance of one or two extra hours of slumber
only the wisdom of an Omniscient Creator could perfect this orchestration
each new day with such peace and promise-
the Eternal assurance of a new beginning
Dry, dusty, icy, bouncy, luxurious….. Land Rover
morning expectancy contrasting half awake awareness
novelty of a time spent inconsistent with the predictability of standard sunrise routine
a contemplative- life assessment at break of day
wrapped up in awareness of the cold beauty and African spaces
Red Sun Competition
March 2013
Categories:
predictability, introspection, day, time,
Form:
Imagism
It is okay to mourn
the rapid speed by which this treacherous virus
caught us off guard
Now we cope, we survive, some better than others
And for so many, too many
the dignity of dying has been denied
After a life long-lived, you were left to meet the great beyond alone
cut off from those who were in your precious circle
We grieve for you
We grieve for lost moments and time that cannot be recaptured
Crowded malls, movie theater lines, standing sweaty shoulder to shoulder
in packed concert halls and bars
nodding simultaneously to familiar tunes
We grieve the mundane, predictability of our former world
Crammed in trains with intoxicated hockey fans en route to the big game
We mourn the cold we braved together
the obnoxious fans of the other team
the homeless percussionist banging out beats for bread
on their white, plastic bucket snare drum
The fairs and festivals
The planes and anticipation of travel and adventures to come
I miss you deeply
my flawed, beautiful human society of the pre-virus days
I am sickened by what this virus has done to us
You made us divided and filled our heads with wild conspiracies
You kept us trapped in our echo chambers
You drove us apart when we most needed to stick together
You wore out our battle wearied soldiers of the front line
risking it all to keep us well
to be a last connection to the human world before fading into eternity
We can never forget what you have meant for us all
It is okay to grieve my beautiful people
We will
one day
be given back some version of our former world
it will look and feel different
We will have lost great people along the way
there are more days to fight
God speed.
Categories:
predictability, hope, strength,
Form:
Free verse
BLESSED DISARRAY!
There’s one thing that’s assured in this physical world
More than death and taxation so physicists say
It’s the increase in entropy, time unfurled
Or in other words there will be more disarray
Now I’m not being morbid asserting this fact
(Only true without man sticking long finger in)
And there are some of us with compulsion to act
And resist ineluctable chaos and spin
But imagine the converse some might choose to hold
Each atom in total controlled and neat stack
Every instant with utter precision pre-told
And announced in a modern Old Moore’s Almanac
There are days when we feel: Just a moment! Hold on!
Could I have some more predictability sure
I’ve enough of this chaos so let it be gone
And I’ll live more like my perfect neighbour next door
But then what of the thrill when we once get it right
No not every time; that’s for slaves not the free
The uncertainty principle kept in our sight
Will give us some relief from that old ennui
So join with me to now go forth boldly and say
That perfection unlimited with no adverse
And no portion of spices of disarray
That alternate bland menu could be but a curse
Categories:
predictability, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I prefer them a bit tattered and tired.
(a slow lick on a hard knife edge).
A midnight she cat, sparkling like a pinwheel.
The one that make you obsess,
why they're one hour and-five minutes late.
Why their mascara is off center.
Why they have that strange strong scent.
I like them a little mousy,
a little off the beat.
A chick that can spit with class.
Kick the living MAN out of me.
A fireball that contorts and concocts,
attends to every want and need...
(You know what I mean)
In the end, what I really need is periwinkle predictability.
A Crisco oiled apron, the one mamma used to don.
A deep-fried lullaby in the quiet cove of a racing mind...
I want to go way back into Crayola Crayon time.
Categories:
predictability, death, family, funny, loss,
Form:
Free verse
She had a gothic heart,
predictability and tamming tranquility were her counterparts,
she felt pain as gain,
peace was nettlesome and purposeless,
an abomination that careless civilization is undeserving of,
life is best consumed in confrontation,
within her magnificent mind God's value gravitated toward the power of volatility,
instability as instinct,
truth is permenance in transition,
Victoria believed that divinity as a mystery unsolved is more exhilerating
than explication or epiphany leading to the extinction
of curiosity's reign,
Victoria knew that law and politics are nothing more than an imposition
by the few heaved upon the many,a yoke of oppressive genius,
Victoria, a child of love betrayed,a woman of courage displayed
thought toughly & tenderly about the potential of mercy,
an enviable Empress,
compassion and kindness were complimentary components
to her dangerous disposition as hawkish talons
may be employed for feeding of fighting,
she developed into a clandestine warrior of natural necessity,
this world would either waste her
or she would wound the witnessed wickedness,
there was no harmony to be hankered for,life is a war of wills & wits,
espionage,diplomacy,truces,tributes and trounces always in the making,
Victoria loved God like a woman loves the anguish of pregnancy,
Victoria had a passion and a pity
for the Creator responsible for her awakening -
J.A.B.
Categories:
predictability, passion, woman,
Form:
Ode
trapped in the category of basic feelings, attesting to the functional regularity of the average human and demonstrating the crystal-clear predictability of their secular behavior, hatred, love, envy and jealousy consolidated practically all the advance and retreat of a race that eternally gravitates around its own navel, growing at the limit of the satisfaction of instincts and collapsing to the exact extent and at the time when it judges itself full and satiated, ignoring or comfortably avoiding understanding that both transcendence and evolution require the uprising of satiety, since this in everything resembles resignation and cowardice.
Categories:
predictability, appreciation,
Form:
Prose
June 11, 2016
I sit on the balcony of a research station in Georgian Bay, disconnected from the world.
The vast waters open up before me, with the rocky beach expanding off to each side,
A blue sky ahead dappled with little white tufts, the sun slowly retreating to the west.
I am engulfed by cedars, spruce, birch, aspen...
Surrounded by waxwings, vireos, sparrows, robins, warblers, chickadees…
And though I thought of nothing when I stepped out onto this balcony,
I find myself seeing us – you, me, and humanity – in everything around me.
There is the ever-present thunder of waves pounding the shores.
Deceivingly pristine, looking warm and peaceful on the surface,
But with tumbled rocks – evidence of a tumultuous past – visible just below.
The predictability of the powerful waves is comforting.
It is familiar yet humbling, and exposes our imperfect human traits.
Like a mistake we repeat over and over – ‘history is destined to repeat itself’.
Though initially it seems different each time, the end result is the same: we get drenched.
The songs of the many birds compete for the attention of mates,
Like the voices of seven billion people all trying to be heard in some form or other;
As with the birds, some are heard louder than the rest,
And there are some who will remain forever unheard from where we are standing.
In the trees I watch the leaves flutter – particularly characteristic of the trembling aspen.
I remember how we feel together, running our fingers along our skin so as to barely touch,
As if we would shatter like glass into a thousand pieces.
The wind taunts sea birds seeking to land, and appears to enjoy rustling the trees.
Hundreds of Sandhill cranes take a rest on the alvar from their migration,
They seem to tiptoe unknowingly across this precious landscape of moss microcosms,
Like many who pass their lives not seeing or appreciating the subtleties of human interaction.
The sun paints the horizon – a woman in red and gold waiting to be forever chased.
The Bay is choppy, yet I can see us staring back at me in everything.
The picture of imperfection. A perfect reflection.
Categories:
predictability, nature, senses,
Form:
Free verse
Everything in its place dear
This goes here
and that goes there
It's all so very important
I wonder why you don't care
When you are so messy
I swear I want to pull out my hair
Didn't I just finish telling you
This goes here and that goes there
You lead me to frustration
With your lack of consideration
Don't you hear when I keep asking
Oh please oh me oh my
Those things a bit off of a centre
Are discombobulating to this guy
I'm perplexed by your disheveled
It's not pleasing to my eye
Why can't you do just a little bit
I swear you don't even try!
Her Response:
When I rise in the morning
Who cares if I make the bed
You think I am disheveled
I think it's my style instead
When you're so pernickety
It sometimes makes me see red
Try letting loose a little bit
There are layers you can shed
I'm not about the makeup
Hanging up clothes or other extremes
Yet I'm not quite as messy
as sometimes I'm sure it seems
I do like your sense of order
and that predictability sometimes
I've even come appreciate
that you feel in orderly rhymes
So I'll let you be mostly yourself
and I'll try to compromise a bit
I'll care somewhat a bit more often
where many of the little things sit
Embrace just a bit of unpredictable
For within it a certain order exists
Be daring and a bit spontaneous
Don't be afraid to shake your fists
You'll learn that the special things in life
Won't be written on orderly lists
All in the end that really matters
can be experienced by taking some risks
Categories:
predictability, anxiety, dance, emotions, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Observe the wonders as they occur around you. Don't claim them. Feel the artistry moving through and be silent. Rumi
Fog came in its gentility
Sun in predictability
Cast its radiant light
The sun's sustainability
Touched damp fog's great fragility
With its powerful might
Sponsor:Nette Onclaud]
Contest: Rumi In RimuCouee
Written by: Sara Kendrick
Categories:
predictability, inspirational, life, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
I’m Unhappy with FIFA 16
I'm unhappy with FIFA 16.
Passing's no good, the
transitions sloppy. 15 was
better: more excitement, maybe a banal
pleasure in how my plays tend to line up
centre and build up to easy goals.
14 was much too fast for
leisure but the right time I
to teach me possession
seizure and unusual plans, that
losing was predictability, and the
last time I held my
position when the time came and
every minute mattered.
Let's not talk about 13.
I like the realism in FIFA 16,
The pitch is detailed enough that I understand
how far I must run; when to
shoot. Sore thumbs and
sofa-soaked tears
are the easiest way.
Contrarily, pause: a
clean breath, a
clear head - I
conjure little moments of magic.
Controlling perfectly-timed passes
colours the game beautiful again.
(Written two years ago so wayyyy out of date but it meant a lot to me back then)
Categories:
predictability, angst, childhood, games, soccer,
Form:
Free verse
Awakened by the Whip-Poor-Will
Then the cooing of the gray Dove
Spring's sun shining _call of Bluegill
The Oak doesn't call though my precious Love
His love's infallibility
Lift's me in times of trouble and strife
Through all predictability
Of His love like tunes of fife
His great reliability
Lifts me in all of life's great storms
For it's sustainability
Keeps my awesome spiritual being warm
Categories:
predictability, faith, inspirational, me,
Form:
Rhyme
How frantic
they got when
a citizen
decided to drop out!
They saw
the whole enterprise
weaken. They thought
all they worked for would
disappear in a moment,
the glue would
come loose, the nails would
pop out. It was scary,
much better to think
that the elements
in the chain were
simply securely fixed,
the atoms remained in crystal,
the ice intact.
Once lost, the citizen was nearly
impossible to restore.
They liked predictability.
That made them most happy.
And predictability
came from education.
They made the world real
by inserting it
into the brains of the young.
Those living in the real world,
our real world, they would say,
they knew
would stay.
They liked refrigeration
that drew the energy
out of the young.
They squandered their money
on the fuel to refrigerate,
keep the crystals
clean and sharp.
Stasis was the easiest
form of familiarity.
Categories:
predictability, education, social,
Form:
Free verse