Best Pretence Poems
If I say I love you today
It doesn't mean I will love you
A little less
If you falter tomorrow
Don't hide behind the truth you think I can handle
Trust me enough to know I can handle your worst
Even if I can't;
Give me the chance to decide for myself
I might find a way to work through it
Instead of you being the primary decision maker
When we started this voyage
There were no guarantees
No signs that indicated
Smooth sailing
Every moment in our lives
Are painted with curves
The crooked lines can make you stronger
Or it can show you what to work on
Just don't pretend everything is perfect
One day the art of pretence
Will fight with reality
And that battle might in the end
Break everything you tried to keep together
©135714052015
In a space that should hum with focus,
Where thoughts flow like ink on paper,
I walk the halls, and what do I hear?
The clatter of egos—loud, brash,
A symphony of insecurity,
Each voice a drum pounding louder,
Drowning out the quiet rhythm of real productivity.
Oh, the harshness of noise!
Your chatter like chainsaws,
Hacking away the sweet silence,
The sanctuary where ideas bloom.
Conversations compete like wild animals,
Roaring for attention,
But who’s listening?
Who's doing it?
I can’t hear my thoughts,
Lost beneath the weight of your bravado,
Your anecdotes, your grand proclamations,
About deadlines, met and spreadsheets conquered,
But all I see is the façade,
The show of work,
Not the act of working.
It’s an orchestra of distraction,
A cacophony of competition,
Where silence is a crime,
And whispers are for the weak.
But listen!
True strength speaks softly,
In the space between breaths,
In the echo of contemplation.
But here you are,
Standing tall, voice raised,
As if volume equates to value
As if the loudest in the room
It is the most productive.
It’s a mask you wear,
But I see behind it—
Just shadows, just noise,
Just the harshness of insecurities masked as power.
We chase the clock,
Tapping away, thinking,
We’re winning some races,
But it's not a marathon,
It’s a serenade,
A melody of purpose,
And you’re just playing the wrong tune.
So, let’s pause.
Lower the volume,
Tune down the tumult,
And Let the silence reign
In this kingdom of commerce.
Let whispers be the wings of ideas,
Let the quiet be our battle cry,
For in the stillness, we create,
In the calm, we conquer—
Let’s reclaim the space
From the harshness of noise.
Let’s work with purpose,
Let’s make a change—
Because the loudest voice
It doesn't always win,
Sometimes it’s the softest,
The most profound,
That ignites the fire
Of true creation.
The Pretence Of Money
Money buy's
all you want
Fancy dresses
with matching shoes
Flashy cars
for all to see
A cosy home
to lazy in.
A lov-er
of your dreams
A bunch of friends
to celebrate with
The stories told
are so sweet
And adventures taken
are a treat
Your are convinced
of ha-ppi-ness
But Something within
is gone astay
With all the possessions
all the crowds
Still the soul
feels so foul
Eternal joy
has no price
Something you
just re-a-lised
The misery
is masked
With a smile
in it's place
And tears fall
behind closed doors
The loud laughs
covers the pain
And items bought
heals the sorrow
The bonds made
are falsely hollow
So voices within
questions tomorrow
How lucky you are,
people say
So count your blessing's
as you pray
The bed you made
is were lay
A comfort worth it
so you stay
With an empty soul
you act brave
A truth untold
for-ever a slave
So money's pretence
becomes your grave
By H.F.
Written: 06/09/2011
He looks like a good person
from the physical appearance,
little do you know he's poison
wearing a garment of pretence
He pretends to be a friend
who will always help in danger
though his mission always stand
to devour you up like a monster
haughty heart hopping
here and there… posing,
yet within it’s hoping
Pretence at sacrifice concealed in a translucent veil as inverted altruism soon comes unstuck as its perfidy wears thinner and thinner to engender amazement, bewilderment, embarrassment and bemusement.
Shunt aside gifts to the
ego you flatter day and
night to blight your own life.
lies
and excuses
await:
narcissism
sees itself...
no one else
exists:
ego
emits
pre-occupation-
admits
nothing
up close
myopia
passes by
without seeing
the obvious...
Prudence rode her neon lime green bike down to the corner
Right up to the library
Entrance, she wore her bleach blond hair spiky short
Talking too loudly and popping her Bazooka Joe
Every time the librarian glared at her
Next to the magazine rack she
Covertly studied the science section hoping no one noticed her focused
Eyes
The loss of innocence is quite harsh
The consequence is to drown in marsh
Better it is to forget such a task
When innocence turned sour in its flask!
The loss of innocence comes after the dark
Surely it leads on that way fools embark
Nor are the fools wise
Nor can they speak lies!
Yet, the bearers of the loss are hearty
Full of laughs, they love life with affinity
To forget that painful loss
To live a new life in the shoes of the boss!
A forgotten life, known as childhood
Forgotten or pretending to forget for their own good!
What say you
now..
what likeness
do you display today..
what image
do you contrive..
which trademark
will you leave
for others to ponder-
will it be tempered
by love or
merely
a paraphrase
of the truth
which you so carefully
conceal..
I'm intrigued
I only ask..
is there someone real
behind that mask?
EVEN YOU BRUTUS
Many are the thoughts in hearts of men,
None to decipher it,
A smile can be for good and also for evil,
None to comprehend it,
Handshake can be for unnoticed challenge,
The mind has planned mischief and the hand is set to execute it.
You were my friend,
Swayed by greed you turned the cards against me in secret,
And laughed with me in the open,
I thought I was secured by our trust,
But it's fortress was besieged by your desires,
How would I have known all this,for I was mesmerized by our bond,
You betrayed that trust and stabbed me in the back,
How can it be you my friend,
Even you Brutus.
ANYABOLU IFEANYICHUKWU DOMINION
One thing they ask ask and ask
They ask and answer stays puzzle
Every lip's tip remain no drizzle
That people's sake past hippos
The laughter and lovely rattling
Under the rivulet chants and pants
Say whatever goes around-
And applause of comes around.
Initial romantic turns run-
leaving the living question restrained
For the tickle stimulated laughter
And pampers of baby and baby
Promising heaven in haven sheller
"I'll do the don't and great lady-
I love you in pours and sours"
Later the love of bloody sores.
If love be a nice slice of guise
A no heap for the two-
A cleansing jewel for dual peeps
The laughter, smiles and tease too
Blood couldn't resolve the groove's-
battling.
Death and love underlying sides
The coins of parallel value-
That darken the weary souls,
The curry that sores with fouls-
The best test the rest nests.
October’s Pretence.
Rain, nature is greening, but it’s a false spring; December will
pale the land into submission. Do not write poetry till February,
when almond trees blossom and strew petals about in protest
thinking winter takes the season of its sinister drama too far.
Last winter snow fell, a wonder land; people said they had not
seen snow for forty seven years. The stream is xanthous I think
of China’s main river where dolphins, not seen for years, swim
in cloudy water. What can’t be seen cannot be caught by man.
Dawn, on the track a boar, sniffed the air and grunted; a hairy,
pig in need of a pair of glasses. I moved and it disappeared into
the brushwood. On nature walks I used to take a camera, but
wild animals hate having their photo taken and avoided my
intrusive lens I was left with taking photos of trees, weeds and
evergreen bushes. My lazy dreaminess has paid off I have had
a good life no one ever expected anything glorious of me, and
left me in peace. If you look for me I will be on a bus trying to
find the fabulous castle; I once saw when I could see the future.
Forgive me
For I have sinned in my tenacity
to challenge you on the battlefield of morality.
Forgive me
For offending your duplicity
with my transparency.
Forgive me
While you carouse with your unquenchable lies
For I have sinned in uttering such prayerful reprise.
Forgive me
“Great One”, clothed in your honorable disguise
For I have sinned to not fall prey to your beguiles.
October’s Pretence.
Rain, nature is greening, but it’s a false spring; December will
pale the land into submission. Do not write poetry till February,
when almond trees blossom and strew petals about in protest
thinking winter takes the season of its sinister drama too far.
Last winter snow fell, a wonder land; people said they had not
seen snow for forty seven years. The stream is xanthous I think
of China’s main river where dolphins, not seen for years, swim
in cloudy water. What can’t be seen cannot be caught by man.
Dawn, on the track a boar, sniffed the air and grunted; a hairy,
pig in need of a pair of glasses. I moved and it disappeared into
the brushwood. On nature walks I used to take a camera, but
wild animals hate having their photo taken and avoided my
intrusive lens I was left with taking photos of trees, weeds and
evergreen bushes. My lazy dreaminess has paid off I have had
a good life no one ever expected anything glorious of me, and
left me in peace. If you look for me I will be on a bus trying to
find the fabulous castle; I once saw when I could see the future.