Best Pressure Poems
THE IDIOM I MADE UP IS - HE EXPLODED LIKE A PRESSURE COOKER
My son has returned to our home
He’s mouthy and just loves to moan
Now nothing is right
We constantly fight
He’s like a dog missing its bone!
His wife was once such a good looker
Her red lips she just loved to pucker
After botox and filler
She looked like a gorilla ...
He exploded like a pressure cooker!
The tension between us is rife
I’m his mum and not his ex wife
But his reaction is mean
Shouting, letting off steam
She left him because of this strife!
Create an idiom contest Sponsored by Jesse Day
TOTAL FICTION WRITE!
07~28~16
Peer pressure of the worst no matter who they are
They can be a boy or girl that they believe to become martyr's
Strapped to these young souls, is something they just don't understand
Yet the cowards who persuade them to miss, becoming a woman or a man
What, where, why or when, does this quest justify it's means
For it arises in the warped depraved, in twisted confused dreams
For in this book that they all crave about, this they cannot do
It's against their religion to request the suicide of you
For all their Cleric's whom they are, they sit and witness so
Not one has ever spoken out, to stop this exploding blow
Why is this I ask myself, for they fear the bullet of a gun
Because it's easier to suppress their young, terrorism has again begun
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-8.php
Storm clouds gathered in the skies
Swirling angrily and anxious
For the war
Brewing somber colors
Not swept away by the mighty wind.
Finally, holding off no longer,
They exploded in a crash of thunder
As lightning lashed out in pain.
The tension was relieved
While the torrential downpour flowed
Like an avalanche of tears,
And washed the dusty air.
Then, as if by magic,
When the last drop of rain was shed,
The aurora of sun embraced the sky
And kissed it softly with a rainbow
To fade the ashen gloom.
As my tears dissolve our storm
Hug me with your sunshine
Of understanding love
And let the rainbow of our kiss
Paint away the hurt.
February 16, 2015
~1st Place~
Contest: Impact and Metaphors
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Judged: 10/03/2020
you planned your race
to run at pace
and win at any cost
but ran too fast
and finished last
so the prize you sought was lost
had you taken time
to the finish line
you might still have your health
and realize
life's greatest prize
is the prize of life itself.
Thinking back when I was young
I still recall your bitter tongue
you guys weren’t fooling anyone
behind those plastic smiles.
She felt the daggers in her back
and as she passed I heard you laugh
I’m sure she felt the aftermath
of your relentless wiles.
Your loyal cronies all stood by
and watched as you demoralized
and tortured her with callous lies
she choked and ran away.
I saw her crying in the queue
and I just didn’t know what to do
I felt as much to blame as you
because I’d looked away.
A football game, perhaps a dance
I’d meet her if by happenstance
and hoping for a second chance
to fix things, I would try.
Years have passed I think of her
I wonder how her life endured
all the pain from you and yours
…and now it’s me who cries.
pressure that could kill
an eerie, silent chill
parents, friends, family, and peers
all of the pain just burns and seers
they expect too much from me
no clue why they can't see
easily angered by anyone
I can say my life is no fun
I know they don't care about how I feel
it is easy to forget that it is real
I do wish it was a dream
right now I want to scream
with all this pressure I'm bound to crack
and say some things I can't take back
why can't they all just understand
that all of this pressure is turning me to sand
It’s May 18th, 2022. I’m poised, alone, heart pounding, in front of my laptop, waiting for courage, my finger hovering over the return key, like a child hoping the timing of my keystroke will bring me luck.
I took this summer off - which drove my mom absolutely CrAzY. “You CAN’T!” she’d said last month, only to be overruled by my Grandmère. Now I’m home for summer break and tonight she’s flush with exasperation.
“You should have applied for a dean’s fellowship,” she said, her voice rising as she rubs her hands together, as if scrubbing for an operating room procedure, “and a summer research position!” She’s practically twirling with suppressed emotion.
I get why she’s upset. She only goes “deep end” when she's worried about my future. She knows what’s needed to get a medical school slot in 2025 like other moms know their favorite recipe - after all, she’s done this twice before.
Leong’s upstairs, avoiding this family scene. When I described my family expectations as “hustle culture,” to my roommates, they all understood - we’re that much alike.
Step (my stepfather) is trying to de-escalate and calm us (her) down. “Look,” he says, holding up his hands like someone talking down a gunman, “NEXT summer she’ll buckle down, get in more volunteer hours and get a dean’s research fellowship” he says, sliding his eyes to me. I nod “ok” almost imperceptibly. “It’s ok to start grinding sophomore year - that’s what I did.”
OOOO! She turned to him and if looks could kill, he would have exploded like someone in a Tarantino movie.
By some psychic grace my Grandmère chose that moment to call. Step and I fled the den like it were on fire, going our separate ways to halve the chance of being followed.
In my dark room, lit only by the light of my MacBook, a quiver runs through me, and I finally press return. My grades for Spring semester - and Freshman year come up. My eyes water and I relax back against my chair when I see “Dean's List.”
I smile to myself, and slowly, fiercely I clench my fist with a “YESS!" As I postulate my victorious reprieve.
I’ve heard about atmospheric pressure,
but honestly, it’s not a thing I get -
only that it’s something people measure,
and when it’s low, I hear we might get wet!
I guess they never taught me it in school.
In fact, I googled it just now. It said
we’re living in the bottom of a pool,
just one with air – not water – overhead!
I really like that nifty metaphor,
but how warm air that rises makes it low
I can’t quite comprehend, and I get more
confused when reading how it makes wind blow!
My brain’s now fried. I just can’t get the gist
of it! And that’s why I’m no scientist!
Sept. 2, 2017 for Shadow Hamilton's Atmospheric Pressure Poetry Contest
Down by the sea amid the frolic and glee
If the sky's blue, you're feeling the breeze
Adore, savor, relish; hear the wind's sigh
Because the atmospheric pressure's high.
On your farm, and all around the town
Calm air, no storms, no need to frown
Dance, bounce, spin, twiddle, twirl in joy
Because the atmospheric pressure's high.
Up in the clouds, near mountain tops
Heart's feeling fog as oxygen drops
Clouds will glow, storms will blow
Because the atmospheric pressure's low.
In high altitudes where the airplanes fly
Lower temperatures will roam the sky
In airplane's cabin the air's full of woe
Because the atmospheric pressure's low.
High or low pressure, stormy or a blue sky
Rest easy knowing laws of nature apply
Sun will shine after the rains are gone
A weary night will bring a cheery dawn.
Placed 3rd
August 10, 2017
Atmospheric Pressure--Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Placed 3rd: Strand select U poetry contest by Brian Strand
“as we passed her she did wilt
which caused in us sense of guilt
since our stance perhaps did cause
to put her heart’s joy on pause
though we’re gentle, not hostile
we diminished her soul’s smile
since our aura as she viewed
scent of love did not exude” —Unseeking Seeker
the passersby wailed in laughter
with a blink of an eye she sought the here after
prompting hatred she'd rid and had been
gone the sun's soul beaming within
left are the pieces contusion once dealt
exemplification deep purple, blue/black welt
anticipating that it is all in the imagination
innuendo scorns, undertones as intimidation
the nuances of facial expression and body language
an undercurrent hides beneath an open bridge
the windy storm blows farther its opaque steam
whilst whispering mantras gently stream
uttering phonemes begin and she softly chants
deep breaths balm lofty thoughts further enhance
‘I choose and listen how my inner voice druthers,
and not the random opinions of others’
forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds—perfume
on the heel that has crushed it, where sweet aromas loom
Welcome to this club called "Earth"
Your wait will no doubt fill its worth
If you're a breather, have no fear
Your going to like the atmosphere
Mind not the pain behind your eyes
I'll be taking it with me when I rise
You see, the earth requires rain
And lows can create headache pain
But while I'm down when e'er it's grey
My mood is changing day-to-day
See, I never stay one way or other
I'm capricious, (like Nature's mother)
So here comes sunshine and blue sky
Things always improve when I get ...
HIGH!
** FOURTH PLACE in the "Atmospheric Pressure Poetry Contest", Shadow Hamilton, Sponsor. **
dear grandson,
little do you know
your every decision
will form your character
result in consequences
and pave your path in life
little do you know
your every decision
the role models you seek
will have an impact on your life
and determine your destiny
little do you know
no matter what
i’ll always be
watching over you
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.3~ 2020
AP: 1st place 2022
Submitted on February 22, 2020 for contest STRAND SELECT Y sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention
I have so much to say
so much to show
so much of me
I want to leave behind
I don't fear death
what I fear most
is losing the battle
against time
I have so much to say
so much to show
so much of me
I want to leave behind
I don't fear death
what I fear most
is losing the battle
against time
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Posted on June 7, 2021
They say boys don’t cry.
They say it like a promise.
Like strength is stitched in our skin at birth
and weakness is something
you have to unzip your chest to find.
I was eight
when I learned that sadness had a gender.
That girls get tissues,
and boys get told to “tough it out.”
That scraped knees get band-aids,
but broken hearts?
Those just get buried under
“man up”
and “you’ll be fine.”
I was twelve
when my dad said,
“Stop acting like a girl.”
Like emotions were diseases
and I’d caught one.
So I stopped.
Stopped crying.
Stopped talking.
Stopped needing anything
that made me look soft.
Because being soft
felt like being disposable.
And you wonder why boys break things
before they break down?
Why fists meet walls before feelings meet words?
We are taught to bottle it up—
but no one tells you what happens
when the pressure hits the glass ceiling of your skull.
I walk hallways with a smile that’s a lie.
Teachers don’t ask.
Friends don’t see.
And the counselor?
Too busy with the loud kids,
the girls who cry pretty in bathrooms.
My silence doesn’t make a scene.
It just echoes.
Some nights I scream
into pillows
so I don’t have to apologize
for having a voice.
But no one sees bruises
when they’re on the inside.
No one asks
if you're okay
when your mask fits perfectly.
And I want to tell you—
depression wears cologne too.
Anxiety knows how to laugh at jokes.
Panic attacks can come
after touchdowns and straight A’s.
I want to scream:
Check on your boys.
Check on the ones who always say, “I’m good.”
Check on the ones whose humor hits too hard,
too fast,
like they’re trying to dodge their own thoughts.
Because we are drowning
in plain sight.
We are falling
but our hands look like fists,
so no one thinks to catch us.
We are breaking
in ways that look like silence.
And silence
doesn’t make noise
until it’s too late.
When we went to high school
We’d do best to fit in
And our popularity was measured greatly
By the number of our friends
We dressed up in the fashions
That everyone would wear
And only spent time listening
To the gossip out there
And our thoughts and our values
Would always be in sync
And our cliques controlled us
And told us what to think
And if anyone would deviate
From the usual, standard norm
They surely would be bullied
And undoubtedly be scorned
And now what does it matter
What is the current trend
Before it was important
And now it reached its end
And where are all the people
That we were influenced by
The ones that terrorized us
The ones that made us cry
They’re likely not accomplishing
As much as what they thought
And not absorbing everything
That their lives have brought
Renounce the uniformity
And need for assimilation
It leads to disappointment
Resulting in frustration
One time it was essential
And vital to belong
We now see its triviality
And this doth makes us strong
The burden of conformity
Can be baseless and be unkind
Stand out and trail your own road
Your existence’s great design