Best Push Down Poems
(a Salute to Howard Moss)
Although it is not yet warm,
we have shoved to the backs of closets
snow-boots, gloves, and woolen scarves,
locked tire chains and ice scrapers
into trunks of automobiles as if
tomorrow the first bloom appears.
Oh, stiff wind blow, hold back snow,
whose flakes unwelcome gust
while hearts claim lilac scent.
Oh, pale moon, come, lend your light.
Oh, songbird, drop your sweet notes here,
while old men's hats sail past
and girls push down their skirts—
with both hands—as purses cling
on hunched shoulders and hair-strands
blow against cheeks.
What is this howling wind
and who brought this mournful song,
this wild, feathered up-surging
as if tomorrow the world upturns.
We've shoved our gloves,
our boots and scarves behind
the racks in backs of closets,
locked away the sacks of salt,
and scoured the ground for signs
of hyacinth buds or crocus flush,
while old mens' hats sail past
and girls hold down their skirts
as purses sway and hair-strands
whip against their cheeks?
And though it is not yet warm,
there is the mystery of spring.
Categories:
push down, appreciation, mystery, spring,
Form:
Free verse
"Gosh, you're such a freak."
"Did you wake up that ugly?"
You say to me.
It has become a daily ritual that we partake in.
You say what comes to that cruel,
unsympathetic mind.
And I sit,
listening,
telling myself I'll be home soon.
Just a few more hours.
Not the rest of my life.
"Must be hard to look in the mirror. Is it cracked by now? You're a monster."
You laugh.
I slide further into my desk,
waiting for you to leave, as you usually do.
I never look up,
too afraid to make eye contact.
That'd be too personal.
Yet you always find a way to get eye level with me so I can see the anger in your eyes;
masked is hurt, maybe,
pain from your own life as if belittling me helps any.
"Tomorrow. Same time as usual. Don't get any more beautiful on me."
You say, clearly kidding.
You finally walk away.
I exhale out,
letting the air I've been holding in escape.
I sigh and get up to leave.
Whatever I'm feeling I push down inside,
just like any other day.
I can't break.
Not now, not here.
I go home and head to my room.
Once there, I can feel.
Fear and frustration, cross my mind first.
Anger and agony, follow.
Sorrow and sadness, next.
Then come the tears.
Warm as they may be, they do nothing to warm my heart.
The words of the day always find a way to my memory.
Ugly,
freak,
monster.
Today was a mild day,
most are worst.
The tears continue for an hour,
tissues fill my bed.
Then they stop and I go on about my night,
always anticipating tomorrow.
The next day is the same.
Different day, similar names.
Hideous,
midget,
elf.
I try to feel nothing, but today I feel bitter.
Years of torment have changed me.
Allowed me to remain quiet inside until I want to feel.
At the end of of the day,
as we normally would part ways you ask,
"Why don't you just kill yourself?"
For once I look up,
"But I'm already dead."
Categories:
push down, anti bullying, bullying, teen,
Form:
Narrative
Shot out like a cannon ball
As mother lay there in her bed
Twisted and contorted
Push down hard the nurse had said
Audience at bottom end
Were quick to save the head
What a pair of lungs cried out
Went from purple blue to red
Cleaned up cord cut and swaddled
Poor child's hungry wants be fed
Mum and dad proud as can be
Holding babe that they have bred
6/21/2015
Categories:
push down, baby, birth, fun, miracle,
Form:
Quatrain
I sleep. The hours tick by mercilessly;
unfilled, purposeless, full of potential
"What to do? What to do???" I mutter,
tumbling, like Alice, down the rabbit hole.
My hands push down ballooning petticoats,
careful not to show or touch anything.
I twirl beneath the pile down comforters.
The hours tick by crimson red
and in the dream,
the rose Queen shouts, "Off with HER HEAD!"
An eyebrow is plucked whole from my face.
It falls matted and to the ground leaving me,
brow akimbo, surprised, and horrified.
"What to do? What to do? What to do???"
Half shorn. Half drawn. Half born?
A painter's pallet appears before me.
A brow is drawn… for me.
Yet, the Rose Queen still screams on.
"Off with HER HEAD! Off with HER HEAD!"
Categories:
push down, daughter, fear, imagination, mystery,
Form:
Narrative
When you wake up and realize that your meds have forced you into a four and a half hour cat nap-
You sit up and crack your neck. Yawn.
Look out the window, and see how much the Sun's glare has weakened.
You grab a glass of water and your pill box. Check the date against what is missing and what day your phone says it is.
Because your mind is too foggy to trust.
Because your doctor needs to lower your dosage.
Will you survive that?
Your thumb presses down on Saturday.
Different shapes, sizes, and colors are audited as you're still trying to survey the logistics of moving any further.
Maybe you should just skip to the end.
Take them all.
Tell the Sun farewell and cozy back up to a chemically induced facade, lit up by an endearing subconscious.
Angels sing as you push down, and turn.
Grab that last capsule and drift off like one of your rock star heroes that burnt out, rather than fade away.
But you're just a burn out who wants to fade away.
So you swallow your medicine.
Lay back down,
and wait for the encore.
-James Kelley 2016
Categories:
push down, anxiety, death, deep, depression,
Form:
Free verse
Pressure. Oh I wish I'm not struggling to free away from under.
They continue to push down with words of threats, only bringing me down.
They think it's easy, when in fact, they only suggest the easy way out. . . they're very concern, afraid that I fail on my own; Failure.
The only way I'm going to be able to pick myself up is to fall. . . down to
my own mistakes, aches, for my own sake, this is what I need to endure, this is what I have to take.
Like them, I am also afraid, but I've come to believe in myself. Have they come to believe in me?
I ignore their blasting of rhetorical. A blank mask I put on, only to space them out, I stare at nothing while they resume to pester me with their knowledge about what I should do. In reality, they know nothing.
They compare me to others. They assume nonchalantly. They don't know me.
I feel trapped. Contained in a bubble of oppression: hindering my ability to sprout and nourish On My Own.
Perhaps, they still think I'm the little boy they once adored. They've forgotten that time aged me to this tall, slim, song bird who never stops dreaming.
Now, I'm pursuing to achieve inner peace. For that is what gives me strength, courage, and determination--whilst in the midst of the noise and trouble, I keep my composure. . . and still be calm, in my heart.
Categories:
push down, simple, slam, social, voice,
Form:
Free verse
amnesia sets in
selective memory
forgetting the gossip
written in a rhyme
poison inked words
splatter on the screen
to demean
to be mean
misjudge
tattle taler
repeat hater
carries on...
others pics forgotten
other words forgotten
hate fueled
hate sated
the true state
not debated
never stopping to think
could be wrong
has to push down
to be strong
and so it goes on
wrong after wrong
and like the publican
feels good to pray
and say
"Thank God...I'm not like others....a sinner
I'm a winner!"
Morality laden
A chaste maiden
Oh, but erased
is not defaced
there is another record
One with a trace
Seen by another Judge
ONE not common place
a remembered name
a remembered face
and I?
Well, I rest my case....
For I am nothing
but a sinner
in need of grace
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
push down, community, hate,
Form:
Free verse
There once was a fellow called Nicolas
Was famous for his extreme wickedness
He push down old ladies
Made faces at babies
And committed these acts with much cheerfulness
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
push down, mystery,
Form:
Limerick
Black Men,
I see your power.
And, although sometimes well disguised,
and sometimes compromised,
buried between paler thighs,
scrutinized, by paler eyes...
I see your strength.
And, I see the wisdom in your eyes,
as a prize.
And, I hear what's being said about you,
but I don't believe the lies,
from him, her, them...
Not even the lies,
that you believe and tell about yourself.
Black Men,
I see your worth.
Even when, your flexion lacks direction,
ending in defection,
and upon closer inspection,
there is no connection...
to be found.
But, there's no desire to clown.
No desire to
BEAT DOWN,
PUSH DOWN,
or DRAG YOU DOWN!
NEVER THAT!
I see your POWER,
your STRENGTH,
and your WORTH...
And, BLACK MEN...
I see your CROWN.
Categories:
push down, black african american, men,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Bud of a flower,
open, reveal thy beauty,
and color our eyes.
I cannot picture,
this earth without your presence,
you are needed in life.
Your plant family,
400,000 species,
grass, daisy, orchid, are some.
Remnants of you, see,
your kingdom trace back to a,
Jurassic era.
now embrace sunshine,
attract guests with your color,
that they might find you.
Both male and female,
with pistils and stamens,
boundaries are broken.
-For atop your stem,
reproductive organs dwell,
encased in petals.
Pollination needs,
help, ask the bees to carry,
pollen to stigma.
Help is rewarded,
Nectar, a sugar-based sweet,
a feast you must seek.
Please walk gentle,
for some have intentions that,
are carnivorous.
Water, sun, soil, air,
and carbon dioxide bear,
Photosynthesis.
The process makes food,
chlorophyll provides color,
and ends the cycle.
Germination is,
the start of growth, for seeds to,
emerge from the earth.
The roots push down and,
anchor the seed into soil,
as the stem rises.
When petal, pollen,
leaf and stem dance in the wind,
life begins again.
Categories:
push down, art, education, imagination, life,
Form:
Haiku
Wandering Ways
I walked many places and what I only saw was paths not chosen
These paths are what to take when there are many things in life
For most of the time I walk it just to walk it, to recognize things
The path that I have chosen sometimes reckless but caring
Wandering ways from what I usually do and I just walk my path
Quietly notice that silence is the key to just the peace that is
I gather my strength by self and only I can do it or no one else
The path might be full of thorns and thick shrubs that bites
The feeling of slashing, pulling, tugging, and most of all be held
The thicker it gets the harder the path, yet when I am through
I feel that I am relieved that that I took the path just because,
The aches and pains seldom occur, but most of all I have believed
I am one to hold out my hands through each path, this is me
I don’t know how I do it my hand just passes through and reaches
One by one I help the ones that need the direction that I went
So full of heart I seldom think they should do it themselves
I grew to know that It was O.K., but only help when paths are thick
Thick of moments that are tempting, saddening, and hopelessness
Wandering ways can be so much grief, and feeling of no relief
This is why one must go through it, and push down the brushes
And pull and tug on them to make it clear for others
I did not say I just walked through the brush to be held back
I did not say that I would stop because it was thick and it hurt
I did not say my mental stress was to a point of breaking
All I just said was I picked a path full of brushes
That pulled and tugged, bit me through and through
So that the experience would actually be my teaching tool
I did it just to do it, No! I did it so I can show
My resistant to all the harshness of life can bring
But all of that is a Wandering way of one vivid imagination
That pulls others back to reality that the path is not for them
But if they like they can take my hand and experience it
Much more gentle and more elegant than the harshness
That I experienced, because I went through it and I believed
My wandering ways is just the way I am and it is a relief
In the end
Categories:
push down, appreciation, care, conflict, encouraging,
Form:
Personification
There once was a fellow called Nicolas
Was famous for his extreme wickedness
He push down old ladies
Made faces at babies
And committed these acts with much cheerfulness
Categories:
push down, fun, natural disasters,
Form:
Limerick
MY POEM ABOUT DEPRESSION
A dark place, A wet slimy wall and a damp cold floor, A refusal to surrender or to be seen as weak and needing of support, a mask of two hands, one voice.
A pin hole of light above my head, a dusty environment imagination projecting the universe, A faint sound of life beyond the old well, curiosity takes me away from the worry and i forget i am alone.
The well fills up with water the more fascinated i become in the wonder of life. The clear water gives me choices, keep laying and drown or suffer the movement of change and survive.
A couple of days or weeks maybe month pass and now i can see all the sunlight coming from the opening of the well, i am still up to my neck in water and it soon starts to rain, slowly washing all the old thoughts away, there is now water flooding into the well and naturally i start to kick my legs, i don’t want to die, i want to be happy again in the sunshine. I go with the follow, my head breaks through the darkness into the light.
I push down on my weak arms and climb out.
Two feet, Two hands, One park full of a million voices.
Your amazing, your strong, the universe has your back.
Categories:
push down, anxiety, bird, childhood, confidence,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Stand under the proscenium arch
Listen to show tunes till doomsday comes
Dawn with the songs of ever lasting darkness
Tap dance your last dance on Broadway
Burn the last lime light down
Take midnight with you
Pay no tolls until you are told to
When leaving New York City
Buy a Hybrid Prius on the road
Equipped with liberal intentions
With a west coast radio and global warming controls
With a turn signal leaning left
Place your index finger and thumb on it
Push down until you get to somewhere rainy
Stop!
Think before you start
Follow signs to California
Wait for a fault line crack to appear
Watch it become a Democrat
Move gently and friendly towards green
Hug a tree for me
Never become an old white man
Elect some one young with hair
Avoid bald spots at all cost
And railroad Catholic crossings
Register as a Liberal
Turn on CNN
Read the New York Times
Just stop! ….. I'm getting car sick
Let me out
Time well spent is behind you
Who needs a mind when you own a Prius
Categories:
push down, adventure, car, crush, education,
Form:
Didactic
Soft lazy clouds push down on sky
Clinging to the heavens with solitary resolve
Heavy wet blankets the oblivious wind
Spreading an icy breath of discontent
One Deceptive Snowflake leads the exodus
Leaving the safeness of sky
Praising in dance new freedom
Giving tow to weary stitches of white
One and more descend into morn'
Following in blissful ignorance
A sea of look-a-likes
Crashing into a wall of color
Masquerading as equals
In denial of their uniqueness
Land in rest
On heels of the charge
Helpless in a frozen wall
Wishing only for thaw
When warmth melts betrayal
Into wells of forgiveness
Categories:
push down, change, metaphor, winter,
Form:
Free verse