Best Realism Poems
You call me insensitive,
But I don't believe that's true;
Because, you see,
It's all about me.
It's not about you.
You say your opinion doesn’t matter,
That I’ve no respect for your point of view;
But I do if we agree,
Because it’s all about me.
It’s not about you.
You say I’ve no compassion,
No feelings for your troubles or your blues;
But none of us is issue free,
And mine are all about me;
But…not about you.
A time old adage,
“To thine own self be true.”,
Is all about choices you see.
My choices are all about me,
And, certainly, not about you.
So, when its time to make your choices
You’ll understand and know it’s true;
To decide what will or will not be,
Won’t be at all about me;
It will be all about you
But special moments confront most of us,
When what matters isn’t “Me”.
And while these moments are few,
They’re not about me, not about you.
For a time, it’s all about “We.”
Yes, “…no man is an island.”
Is a valid point of view;
But if it’s not about “We”,
Then it’s all about me.
Sorry. It’s not about you.
"Realism"
Living in a bleak world,
The realizations of the people.
All the broken dreams,
Crumbling as the world turns.
Broken souls walk the streets,
With empty minds,
And faded eyes.
Days on end,
Walking the same circuit.
Dark nights with no dreams,
And bright days with no future.
The day reality is known,
Is the day that pattern starts.
Realism is inevitable,
And makes the world pointless.
dust scent through cold trampled field whilst butterflies hung by their wings to dry
blood curled the black birds drizzle depth of dark gray sheet-apostate stealth hunt
12/29/2019
Poetry Contest: ku duet
Sponsored by: Silent One
Beliefs are our compass, bringing to form
A calm, stable day or the eye of a storm
Choices are given each day in this life
To service the good or instigate strife
Oh, we're a mighty and powerful force
As the universe rises ... our ultimate source
We won't get away from this eminent sleuth
Who knows what we want; only, gives us the truth
Oh, what a magical, intricate day
But I'm tired, and honestly, don't want to play
So go on, conspire to give me my due
You'll find me today, on a walk, at the zoo
Eyes as blue as the cloudless sky,
Hair as dark as a starless night,
Jaw as sharp as a shining blade,
And face as smooth as the wet sand on the beach
With a voice as warm as the sun
On a hot summer's day
All of these aspects of Mr-Blue-Eyed-Monster
Are great,
But those are nothing more than his outer image
Have you ever seen the boyish grin
That formed when he was happy?
Or the way his eyes would sparkle
When he spoke of something he loved?
How about the way he stutters when he's nervous
And blushes when he's said something dumb
Or just plain shy?
You've never cared for his insecurities
You only pointed them out.
You've never seen him tremble at the sound of thunder,
Or cry when Dobby died.
You've never seen him bite his lip
When he's afraid he's upset you
Or how he fiddled with his hands when he asked you out
You've never heard him fumble over words
Or trip more times than you could count
Because he's simply too nervous for the first date
You've never seen how his eyes shine
Under the fireworks at midnight
On New Year's Day
You wouldn't know that he asks for permission
Every time he wants a kiss
Or how he carries mistletoe
Every single Christmas
So that he won't need to ask for a kiss that day.
How he wears mismatched socks
Because he always loses the other one to a pair
Or how he promises to never lose you the way he loses them
-Because he's too damn cheesy.
You've never heard him complain about
The expectations he has to reach or
How he's worried for his marks
You've never seen how
He messes up he's hair
And mutters incoherently
In foreign languages,
Worried that he'll disappoint everyone
Yet again
You've never heard how he laughs
At his own little jokes
And calls them brilliant
Even though they're lame
All you've cared about was
Hot-Blue-Eyed-Boy
And whether he's good in bed
You haven't considered that he's keeping that
For his special someone
Because all you see
Is another good looking boy
So you automatically think that he must be like other boys.
Well, he's not.
You haven't considered that
There's more to him than
His voice like the sun,
And eyes like the sky
He's not just another boy.
No two people are the same
- Or so the Blue-Eyed-Monster has taught me.
Opinions are like noses
Everybody has one
Like freedom; we all want to have fun
You don't want to die
But bought yourself a gun
In the kingdom of life
Everyone is entitled to a wife
You have love for God
But hates a brother
You can respect the air
And mock your neighbor
But do remember
That rewards comes not from prayer
But what you labor
Our fantasies comes into reality
Unless there is possibility
For without opportunity
The potential is a mystery
And what is the use of the opportunity
Without the potentiality
Enigmas to tantalise and tease
Monoku Prayers
Those who live in grass huts speak no prayers for rain, but do bless the dew…
S.Y. Eslinger 12/28/2024
An inner wish or necessity,two roads
with a single goal.From this earthly eye
a crystal cluster of memories..happy&sad
symbolic and passionate springing forth from
twilight lethargy to become a pictorial chronicle
of life giving vitality..realism revealed
Hear me recite from my 4100+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen nameichthyschiro..
catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter..
read my kindle guides on amazon
"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe," ... Carl Sagan
Subtle crafts soundly, using euphemisms,
yet cluelessness dealt a sheltered abyss.
When one confront internal mechanisms,
whatchamacallit ... orphaned hit-or-miss.
A conundrum conspires an endowed soul,
behooves postmortem liken achievement.
Where'er wits helix baptism, buried hole,
an urchin crawlspace, be I foundling sent.
Newborn bid birthright a pardoned envoy,
of mature absence deemed as uncharted.
Internals blueprint designed, bad employ,
indeed, tunnels end--will be lights outed.
Rare conscientiousness temper unknown,
infiltrate hallmark translates as dethrone.
Imagination and Realism
Imagination and realism
Both sounds opposite
But imagination is the harmony of realism
They are the rhythm of one string
Like string of guitar we just see in real
And the sound it produces only we hear
With the soft sound of string
Colorful scenes always we imagine.
All Rights Reserved
Poetess S. Nadia Azam Shah Bukhari.
SONNET FOR REALISM IN ACTION
OR: If a job is worth doing, it’s worth doing badly
We’re told with smug assurance patronising
That if a job’s worth doing, then do well with it
But if we doubt our faultless realising
We’re inclined to say in hopelessness ‘to hell with it!’
With projects of high promise I could regale ya
Begun with soaring hope at their inception
But ended, quit because of fear of failure
To live to standards asking for perfection
An alternate motto, different course to plough
‘Keep hope and faith then maybe bye and bye
If we press on, we’ll muddle through somehow
We might as well go on and give it a try’
Here’s a slogan more realist than proverbial
‘If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth it’ - no clause adverbial
Life is unique.
It is devastating, tragic and hard goodbyes.
It is rays of sunshine and it is butterflies.
It is tears and it is smiles.
It’s lying in bed for a week
But still sprinting for miles.
Life is planned, down to every detail,
Lowered expectations so we don’t get hurt
But life is the most unpredictable thing on earth.
Life is ink left on hands,
Notes scrawled on paper, messages carved in bark.
It’s looking for the moonlight
While dancing in the dark.
Life is everything we’ve left behind
And what we’ve imprinted on each other’s minds.
It's the ideas we have that rip at
The very fabric of the world’s seams,
It is people’s hopes and it is their dreams.
Over the confines of the cliffs
in a cloud of crystalline haze
in the midst of a tsunami of whistling
skyline shadows in golden amber
hues ooze into the ocean
triumph against craving
waves of fairy spirits
Pearl stone sparkles in sundrops
flying is my passion
I'm diving again
in a wide chasm
sapphire knitting
chromium marble light
optimums prime
upheaval toward verisimilitude
you and my floating rhyme
with an increasing susurrus
a gentle melody is heard
tonal fuzziness
reverberations of rainbow hues
a scarlet choir of classic lullabies
Written: April 24, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1211 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I guess the reason of god is to provide a blue print for right and wrong. A fabled story or a endless song.
From Our Father to Ramadan and the candles of Hanukkah.
Where I’m from a sin is a sin.
Truthfully I commit, that’s why I forgive.
The sky is the limit now I fly in it.
Laying on the clouds I’ll admit it.
Mary Jane gave me guidance.
Don’t live life if you don’t like surprises.
Sun rise, sun set,
Time ticks by but you can’t forget,
Wishing those good time could resurrect.