Best Privation Poems
~ I am a Conservative
Here is who I am
and what I stand for ~
C onserving what is worth preserving
O pen to changing what's not working
N ot willing to throw out the baby with the bathwater
S teadfast when those around me are scurrying
E nabling my children and relatives to succeed
R eligious in the ecumenical sense of the word
V itally interested in my community's welfare
A larmed by the rise in incivility in public discourse
T ender-hearted and giving to the stranger, the widow, the orphan
I nterested in politics, but not obsessed with it
V oracious reader of classical fiction and non-fiction
E nduring privation graciously, with faith and trust in God
Years ago, I bought a basket,
Plain, unappealing –
Weave already unraveled,
I only paid one dollar –
I set the basket on the shelf,
Separated, secluded –
And there it stood,
Unbefitting the decor –
I filled that basket,
With defeated dreams –
My lonely heart,
My deserted thoughts –
I loaded that basket,
With yearning love –
My unspoken need,
My every want –
I found myself gazing,
Often, in fondness –
A beautiful reminder,
For somber times –
My hands may be empty,
My pockets uninhabited –
Aloneness taking its toll,
Privation draping its veil –
The basket stands proud,
Holding seeds of intangibility –
Unfaltering in its stance,
Draped with valor, still –
This Christmas I give you,
An empty basket –
Weave already unraveled,
All I could afford was a dollar –
A new world we came from across the sea
Seeking independence and opportunity
The plan for families would be tough
With hard work it would be enough
Our Patriots understood social contracts you see
Leaving us with a limited government and liberty
This progress was not suppose to add more
To all of you who are money's whore
But "we the people" were fast asleep
Our eyes closed not making a peep
Waking up we now stare at privation
Asking what has happen to our nation
They told us the Patriot Act was for security
The real intent was to prey upon our liberty
The only thing left for greed to conclude
Disarm all of America leaving us screwed
This completing a circle of Representative Democracy
Leading us back to what was fled, their Autocracy
Edward J. Ebbs - 06/12/14
I'm alive,
I'm here to thrive
Blazing a trail of ambition
I lyrically serene you to make you listen
So put on your headphones
That way your soul won’t be alone
My thoughts now became words but I still can’t bring ink to paper
I hope this stunning melody won't go into vapors
As I rise above wannabe pitfalls
Whenever my back is against the wall
I am the revolution
Right to retribution
As I perish in the void of remorse
I know that I’m on a planned course
My inner self ignites, burning deep down to the bone
I have to release to get inner peace, someone pass me the microphone
No shackles or privation pulls or binds this new me
Into a world where I am absolutely free
I have felt no immortality
I’m awaken from this nightmare to face reality
Like a child curious with a new discovery
In this song of my life Faith is the key to my melody
Still angry from revolutions long past
Greed wondered how long it would last
The occupy people have been asleep
Their eyes closed not making a peep
Now awaken, they look at privation
Asking what's happen to their nation
Progress was not supposed to add more
For all of those who are money's whore
The plan was supposed to provide enough
For those struggling in life, finding it tough
Wondering if it's too late to escape their fate
Revolution or Armageddon may be on the plate
Now for occupy to really develop and grow
They will need to find new ways not to owe
Edward J Ebbs - 11/06/11
Written for a contest,ANYWHICHWAY any theme/form max of 15 lines
LOVE THEM ALIVE...
I write with hot passionate streams rushing down my cheeks.
Have you taken out time however minuscule
To contemplate the Romeo and Juliet that set your life's stage
You ever paused to ponder the mystery of parenthood?
Genesis says man with woman leaves father’s house to become one flesh
Leaving youthfulness and peers with their vigour and fervour
They become a two that is one, a mumsy and pupman
Worst for some these have become the privation of every actual or potential good.
Have you not deemed it fit to applaud the sacrifice of parenting?
Picture your father pacing up and down a hospital pathway
Unaware of unbuttoned shirts and the in-theatre curses of his Juliet
While you kick to and fro, insisting to see our mother earth
Until our stubborn immortality bows in humility to ancient mortality
We still forget our gratias to the duo that cared and catered
Do avoid a pool of tears like mine nay you won't forgive yourself
If the only place and time you say Mum I love you, or Dad I love you is in a funeral oration
What should be our best gift to our parents?
What should be the apex of our gratitude to the organism of our existence?
In and out of season, let's never delay to say
Mummy I love you, daddy I love you!
A vexatious question posed by kids of every generation,
One that sets parents to gnashing their teeth with irritation,
And tends to spread a pall over a well-planned vacation,
Is, "Are we there yet?" along the way to their destination!
From the rear seat, there's a paucity of civil conversation.
Mom's firm hand has resolved many a truculent confrontation!
Dad's patience has reached the point of violent detonation!
"Are we there yet?" the kids whine, to their parent's consternation!
The stalwart Pilgrims sailed the roiling seas with trepidation,
Risking their very lives to escape the bonds of privation.
The age-old query from kids must've driven them to exacerbation!
"Are we there yet?" pestered the kids to their parents aggravation!
It had to be a daunting venture to join the westward migration,
As Pa faced the rugged Rockies, the vastness of God's Creation!
Roaring rivers and Indians - he surely had that sinking sensation!
Did he suffer kids' "Are we there yet?" for the trek's duration?
Does this annoying phrase develop during gestation?
Is it primordial? Has it been around since Creation?
Has it something to do with genetics or even reincarnation?
Parents merit a special place in heaven for enduring such recitation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
DEAF EARS
~~~~~~~
I walk alone, the stars they guide me.
They read my mind, leaving words.
They scare me, words of privation.
They feel my fear and ensure me,
that their words are for me to spread.
For all to hear and act accordingly.
I meditate, reaching out to the stars,
Across the void, beyond strange suns.
Finding the source of the left words,
they're not from the stars, no galaxies.
Lives that suffered our fate to come,
Look down at our self-destruction.
They fear for us, the words they left
noted our denial of climate change,
stating it will be our downfall.
Their words; privation, strife rife,
unless we heed the warnings now!
To procrastinate on stopping pollution,
their words, it will be our ruination.
I spread their words, sadly on deaf ears!
~~~~~~~~~~
January 13th, 2018
Entered in the MID JAN 2018 STANDARD CONTEST sponsored by Brian Strand
He came on the brink of the ******* ascent to the White House;
A slave of an unusual sort.
He peered,
From the tiny window in the quarter,
At the snow
Smothering life,
And felt his predecessors’ woe.
Many, like Stella,
Came to find a groove
But purchased with perjury
Men with desires to excel;
To escape the clutch of privation
And scorn.
Ambitious to become house-wives
With uneducated spouses
And the need for the goodlife.
The unscrupulous requests grow intolerable
And recentments fester and prosper,
While the innocent observe
And absorb this lie.
Words cut like razor
And provoked the unthinkable;
Children, like chains,
And immigration shackles
Derailed the contemplations
Of living again.
Our window bids good morning
as sunshine winks her delicate light,
cascading against crimson curves
as the yearning spoon is stirred
and dawn shines past a moonlight trite
Fingertips caressing,
hips that beckon a lovers moan,
A slow descent of gentle squeezes
and feather soft ascents.
Securities blanket of manly frame
still wrapped behind me
of a winters night beside me
like the sky robes a shivering slivered moon.
My cradled neck hungers for your breath,
and your kisses suckling twins of softest flesh.
Privation cries to roll deeper into your embrace
finding your manhood foraging my legs,
standing at the ready to enter candy land
through sugar coated gate.
With pause you edge some distance
as your piercing eyes reveal
you've memorized by sense of touch,
every delicacy unconcealed.
A smile pulls across your lips
in silence exulting your pride
As your hand slowly s
li
de
s
only to discover
pools of wanting you
running over.
Lips that must be kissed
savoring the taste lingering on your lips
to share with me a morsel of my passions taste
with longing to be filled.
To speak, my tongue must form in perfect motion
the thoughts I must convey,
so it is to cast my seducing potion
expressing my gift in pleasure's game
At leisurely pace I open my eyes...
Awakening now to an ordinary day
where simple comforts breed the mundane
and poetry abides my habitual escape
from magics rare existence
and remnants of disillusionment remain
Like drive thru food in lieu of a feast
for taste buds grown abated.
Sullenly today, so alone I am,
with hungers appetite so far from sated.
Perhaps I was dreaming of Juliet, consummated in Romero's hands
As disenchantment knocks at my door...
When loneliness comes calling.
I'm lookin' forward to the arrival of spring with great anticipation,
With the bloomin' of purty flowers and much needed precipitation!
All winter long I've supported the local squirrel and avian population!
Word seems to have gotten 'round that there's free grub at my location!
They're eatin' me outta house and home causin' me some serious privation!
Hopefully, with arrival of spring them fellers will consider migration,
Seekin' other climes for their foragin' causin' me much less aggravation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
The People we don’t want to know.
From pay check to pay check many working class people have two jobs,
then it all dries up and there is no work and manual labourers are
called work shy…. I knew a woman with three jobs she was tired coming
home, yet boiled potatoes and fried fish for her children before falling
asleep, coughing a lot. She had tuberculosis and sent to a sanatorium,
and the children sent to foster homes. Her illness caused by unhygienic
home, people from the social services said. No one asked why a woman
should hold down three jobs to fed her children and no one said she was
a “deserving” poor whatever this word means. This inequity will go on till
we understand poverty is not a choice but a mishap of birth, few escape,
those who do will always carry the dishonour, the mark of Cain, by being
more hateful of poverty and branding the poor lazy. As the average actor
who got a role in a film that made him famed, his hate his own class, poor
himself once, reveals his fear of slipping back to poverty again; he harms
his flesh and blood in an attempt to get rid of his own stench of privation.
But the Haves can smell an imposter, but they do like money so perhaps
his daughter will make it to the ball.
Yearning your hands running through my body,
Exploring the map as its given to you.
Our destination is clear
But your intentions are a blur.
Frigid night that withholds the affability of your embrace,
While I sit under the dark skies awaiting consideration.
I look from side to side attempting to locate the inner you
But in the process I encounter my biggest mistake.
To look for something that is not in existence anymore;
Running through a maze with paths that lead to nowhere.
Idiotic of me to believe this was real;
Seeing through a mirage with aspiration as my weapon.
The same ocean
Different forms
Sometimes silent,
sometimes violent
When will overflow,
when remain stagnant
When tides occur,
when privation
When benediction,
when destruction
Fog when fills everywhere
Silver oceans and white skies
Merge together into one whole
No solid differentiation
As humans standing in a map
Appear the same
Regardless sex, caste, class, creed
Tumultuous battle
As if seeks liberation
From some predestined curse
But yet is bound
And will remain in bondage eternally
Natural white foams scattered
everywhere
Even where eyes cannot reach
Untaught, joyful, ecstatic play
Is it the same ‘He’ who created
An ocean and a grass?
THE OCEAN
WRITTEN FOR THE MEMBER CONTEST
LOVE FOR THE OCEAN
SPONSORED BY LAURA MCKENZIE
I drift away from myself
Octavio Paz
Will I be there when she arrives in time?
Will I be there when my mother starts opening
Her sick eyes and says: "It is you, my boy?"
Will I be there fully of myself and fill with lies
To say at least: "I'm sorry, Ma! I came late!"
And when our body meets, and when our eyes
Try to explain every detail at each one to see
What is going on, and to comprehend what has happened
During those years, could I be able to alter them
And be wise enough to be beautiful in front of her
And give her a last devotion from a grown man?
Will I be there when my luck cannot go ahead to fight
The brave waves that have been coming up from the River
With such physical pain to tell me: “I do not want to go further anymore!"
Do I have then the time, I ask you, naive soul,
To say: "Mother I'm commanding you not love me as a son!
I'm commanding you not bless me with a forgiven kiss!
I'm commanding you, o Mother! To let me die next to the frail bosom of yours!
But will I be there on time when she arrives in tears
Although it is going to give me strength to say: "Why is this
Pain?”
It is that my real answer to judge between love and Mother's Love...
It is that my virtue to make any difference from her tenders breast.
It is that my long, long absence should be like this blind my heart is set up
And keep from you!
Even though my joy is dead, even though my privation inner
Thought is empty, and even though my arrival has been denied,
And even though my way still far away...! Anyhow will I be there, you, God, tell me,
If I can trust her silence before dawn and go to that high and motionless place,
Kneel down there, and kiss at least her last breath...!
Will you let me at least to do just that...?