Best Realists Poems
I look at the world through rosy glasses
It helps me tolerate the asses
And as each new day passes
I am happy to be here
The glass I see is half-way full
I think diversity is kind’a cool
Mix up genes in the human pool
And let prejudices disappear
I like staying optimistic
Even if it’s not always so realistic
Being otherwise just makes me sick
I hope my meaning is quite clear
So, if you must wear a frown
And see the glass as half-way down
I don’t want you come’n round
Unless you’re wanting to be cheered
The pessimists are down the hall
The realists don’t exist at all
The fatalists wait for the call
They all think I’m kind’a *****
But, I am happy to be me
You get exactly what you see
This, I hope, I’ll always be
For another 50 years
Categories:
realists, introspection, life, prejudice,
Form:
Rhyme
as my pen positions itself
between my fingers and pillows itself on my hand…
…I know not why I write and still I’ve got to take this poem for a ride….
Thoughts spew inside my head – too
fast to articulate. Too deep to defend. Ticking like a badly timed bomb
infused with a faulty timer – I reach for the pen…
words align themselves as I walk Through the clutches of Pre-validation. My mind
is appeased – my will is at ease…until the stumbler opens his mouth:
“Poetry” he whispers and I’m thrown
Into the vapors of Validation wondering, perhaps, maybe? Could it be
that without will I have created that which could be termed
as poetry? The jury is out: the naysayers and the critics;
the conservatives and realists;
friends and foes –
torturing my mind, stroking my ego, making my blood boil,
soothing my heart…
tears I cannot cry…smiles they can not see…
anger spills out; indifference sets in;
I wring my mind and
pack my poem
slowly I embark on the
Wrought past Post-validation.
Baby steps in forming words I love. Twisting the poem in forms I’ve
learnt. Dressing it in different styles, shortening it, elongating it;
Snip, snap, cut, bandage –
Rhythm no rhythm. Basking in formless form.
Counting and discounting syllables
But still it’s not enough.
What’s the use of words if they don’t effect?
Diving into The plunge I reign in the words – the leader of my chariot-
My poem succumbs to my will.
Wielding, exposing, slicing, dicing, building, destroying, encouraging,
condemning
the poem breathes – a life of its own.
And I think to myself Oh please who am I to be the wielder of such potency?
I call it back.
Taking a stroll along the beach, I reminisce of things past;
The things I’ve done; the things I’ve not done;
The rot in the world; the love
that begs to be heard…
The thoughts start swirling in my mind.
….
My steps take me back to the beginning…
as my pen positions itself
between my fingers and pillows itself on my hand…
…I know not why I write and still I’ve got to take this poem for a ride….
For: Boomerrang Contest sponsor: Michael J. Falotico
Categories:
realists, on writing and words,
Form:
Free verse
"Countries, like languages, become different when ideas don't meet
Languages we speak, countries we keep, are words so deep standing on our feet"
Three thousand years ago, only one language was spoken by all people on earth. This is the first generation. People are disciplined even without proper education. No schools, no teachers except parents and elders of every home.
Children comply with house rules and these rules become standards. Standards as virtues like faith, hope and charity that symbolize strength in family relationships.
The present generation is the product of the past generations that originated from the very first group of people on earth.
What makes the present generation as the better, if not the best, of all other generations?...
For the realists, only karma stands alone for each body and soul in action.
What makes life bewildering or enlightening?...
It's morals versus ethics.
(Prosebite)
Categories:
realists, humanity, international, language, people,
Form:
Prose
Once upon on a memory
It seems like many moons ago,
Our hearts danced, we became entranced
The oceans of our love began to flow.
A lost and empty heart
Wandered aimlessly down a path,
Darkness invaded, hope evaded
Then there was light.
Once upon a memory
Night has stolen day many times since,
While the sky wept, our love crept
Along the winding path.
Obstacles to overcome
Troubles to tackle
Fear to fight
A star lit the way.
Once upon a memory
A day we will cherish forever,
Our eternal promise
Our vow.
Even the doubters, silenced.
The pessimists, hushed.
The 'realists', flawed.
United.
Once upon a memory
She gave us the perfect cure,
A flame which we hold so dear
An angel we adore.
The past was eclipsed
As though erased,
A momentary blip
Our hearts ablaze.
Once upon a memory
He made us complete,
A gem which shines so bright
Our hearts he makes beat.
The puzzle was completed
As though a game was won,
A sign of solidarity
Our mission, our goal
Done
Categories:
realists, family,
Form:
Narrative
Reach into my depths, I could,
pulling out pieces of fallen idols,
From contemporary to eccentric,
From cynics to realists, to romantics,
searching deeply to find my voice,
If indeed, I have acquired such a tone
as those who inspire my very thoughts,
Thoreau, Coleridge, Crane, Byron, Poe,
Frost, Hayden, Hughes, and Gibran,
Pertinent pioneers of published passion,
Experienced educators of endearment,
Do I dare follow their footsteps
imprinted in the wet cement path of time?
Or do I respectfully deny my destiny
out of fear of inferiority, for who am I?
Questions that echo in my mind,
punishing with each powerful pounding pulse,
No answer awakes within my heart,
nor does my mind mentor my vehement
in self doubt, "I am nothing, I am afraid",
Instead, in the midst of my crossroad,
coming to the rescue in the form of an apparition,
stirring in my soul are the words of Uncle Walt,
"O' Me, O' Life" he repeats with tears in his eyes,
"O' Me, O' Life" he says, wiping my fears away,
"Why do we live child?
Why do we wake and breathe
to prolong our existence on this corrupted orb?
What in your heart is the most alluring reward
for being chosen to walk amongst the grandfathers
of your expression? What is the most precious
opportunity that any man can have in the epic
piece of literature that existence has become?"
(Continued on Part 2, please post all comments on Part 2)
Categories:
realists, dedication, education, inspirational, passion,
Form:
Free verse
a pretence of goodness
dimes on the dollar
blood on your collar
pieces of diminutive generosity
tramps love handouts
look for direction of the middle class
one day my colour won’t matter
breaking down the barriers
leisurely indifferent realists
NYC subways monogramed
a home but not without help
is education an institution
not from a hand out on the train
New York City is not Rome
the Socialist wonder in grandeur
that was New York
bore by socialist’s clichéd reactions
be real not an imitation of love
liberals cater to their self-destruction
know the established redistribution
a world survives without a coin filled hand
29/10/2017
Categories:
realists, america, lost love, poverty,
Form:
Narrative
Maybe one day.
Maybe~ one day l will fly away,
Fly away to the moon,
And dance among the stars,
To discover the essence of spring,
On Jupiter and on Mars,
Ceteris~paribus (other things being equal),
To fill my heart with tranquility,
Fill it with harmony,
And feel the sounds of silence
Maybe l’ll then smile with my heart.
Maybe one day l’ll fly away,
To a world of realists not idealists,
Where politics is never deemed a game,
Somewhere where there is true benevolence,
Not benevolence to profiteer and make name,
A place where politicians don’t flaunt egotist credentials,
And absolute fabrication persists never.
I would love that kind of a place,
Away from the traffic boom,
Too far from the insanity of mankind,
So far from the energy crisis and global warming pronouncing world doom
Maybe one day l will fly way,
I might not have to,
If there be world war three,
Be it the last nail on the coffin of world problems,
Be it not, I’ll just have to fly away,
And see if dreams come true,
What has been, will not be,
What will be, that has never been,
Life runs in cycles.
So I’ve been told and so I believe.
Categories:
realists, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Imagism
A silent trip to the past
The memory of a lost battle
A sign of weakness
Fake smiles surround us
Green slyly decorates the walls
Enclosed hospital
No way to escape a fornicated cage
A lunatic they claim
Needle into the skin
Samples of blood
Is she on drugs?
No caffeine
Afraid we'll go crazy
Talks of religion
Talks of theories
Talks of salvation
They don't know in what waters we lurk in
A cry for help
The uneasy stares
Checked upon every minute
'Watch out, they'll commit suicide'
Us, crazy?
No, only realists
Death is around the corner, why not choose when?
False stories
False emotions
We need to get out of this hell hole
Going away from that prison
A smirk on my face tells them they've been fooled
So long suckers
Here's to your false treatments
Categories:
realists, depression, teen, drug,
Form:
Bio
This year in the town of Bath
W C H are exploring a path
There to show, what they know
Such good reasons to go
Real good people in action in Bath
From the second, to June the fourth '
With much discussion.. A tour de force.!
Many realists versus theorists.'
In the; city of Bath ? Of course.!
Categories:
realists, beautiful, city, education, encouraging,
Form:
Limerick
Philadelphia,
When you enter Philadelphia
You will think that all the drug lords
Of the World live in that USA State.
Millions of drug addicts,
Streets filling with homeless people
Due to drug addictions
And few secret reasons ...
Which could be taken as serious problem
Of the USA government to look at first
Than trying to bring Solutions
To other countries.
Let us be realists
And continue to share some problems
Of different countries for Solutions.
I feel so sad to see
how the top World economy country
Failing its own problems
And trying to help countries
With small problems.
Can we say that some World governments
Profit more in some big crimes?
Is this question capture your attention
World poets?
It is said,"
Well Ordered
Charity
Begins with yourself."
It is my concerns
As I love Americans.
How happy will I be
If President Joe Biden
Sending Vice president Kamala
To Philadelphia Governor
And fix those problems first
Than continue losing Americans taxes
Money in unimportant Africa tours.
God help thousands of Americans
Homeless and millions of drug Addicts.
June 10th 2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
Categories:
realists, emotions, feelings, sad, usa,
Form:
Free verse
It can be so hard to fix this planet
but we can still try our best as realists.
I can still explain to many people that
because majority black people loving so much
majority white people in the World?
As one of the preachers, I am always happy
to see majority black people who passed
through struggles in centuries due to some evil plans
of few white people which benefited
by majority white people and
majority of victims still loving
so much majority white people.
Many people in the World
believe that JEHOVAH is the Only true God.
I say thank you Lord as the victims
of different ill - treatments
still expressing true love towards
majority oppressors.
Praise be You God of Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob, the God of peace and love.
As white preachers out there
how do you feel when majority white people continue hating majority black people in the World
while you continue quoting the scripture which says ,
" Love your neighbours as you love yourself?
Don't you think of being ignored
or underestimated by majority of them?"
Someone can be offended by the topic and
Ask ," why fixing this planet turning to be a world song?"
Simple answer is , " we need the World
of true love and peace."
I love you all.
Categories:
realists, encouraging, motivation,
Form:
Free verse
Driftwood on the water's surface
Slowly splintering apart
A kiss of a violent wave
As rain begins to fall
The eyes see so much
But they see nothing without hands
Without touch
Everything is an illusion
Life is fake and real
Fakes are the friendliest
Realists are the meanest
Divine what you will
A word has a thousand meanings
When spoken aloud
It is given inflection
And loses most of them
A question with no answer
An answer without a question
One who always speaks
Is one who never listens
Realism clashes with idealism
In the echoes of a chamber
Listen to the same repeated ideas
A lie spoken often enough becomes true
The loneliest smile the most
And laugh the loudest
Nobody looks into eyes so somber
And sees a soul worth saving
Like driftwood a soul drifts
Life is the water ripping it apart
Over time those fragments fade
As if never there
Categories:
realists, allusion, dark, humanity, life,
Form:
Free verse
God is the architect of the church's history
take a look at scripture testaments old and new
Psalm 78 reminds us to not forget Gods works
1 Corinthians tells about Israel's failures, not a few
Church history is for our encouragement
telling of God's heroes of faith in time
showing how the Lord blessed each one
He can bless us to walk truly in line
There are many lessons to learn as well
the church's mistakes need not repeat
for what is not remembered in the past
is prone to repeat sadly in every street
Reading church history helps keep eyes open
especially in this age being spiritually dark
to read only modern books weakens our guard
more profitable reading ages past to hold our mark
Church history makes us true realists
seeing heroes of the past had feet of clay
for every age, the church is full of sinners
so persevere in the truth till the eternal day
So read a healthy diet from Pentecost
right through all the ages to now
use your knowledge of all that's past
to serve God better in the present plough
Categories:
realists, christian, god, history,
Form:
Rhyme
The idealist sees the world as moments away
From bounding into a Utopian day
And the people that steal-
Can’t truly be real-?
For what helps another- is theirs they say
And the idealists see the moon with delight,
A gem upon the goddess of night
The idealist is a happy old soul.
The realist sees the world as moments away
From reaching the pinnacle in its eternal decay
And people that steal
Are certainly real-
And must readily be punished today
And the realist sees the moon as a sight,
Of dusts and stones in the darkness of night
The realist is a stable old soul.
Idealists and realists I don’t know what I’d rather be
One soars and crashes-
The other walks purposefully
Idealists and realists I guess I’ll just let them be
For one holds the world together,
And the other sets the world’s dreams free
Categories:
realists, peopleworld, old, people, moon,
Form:
Free verse
Let's pretend, that life is one big joke?
We will end up in stockades,like pigs in a poke.
Laughter is enormously great therapy.
Yet some prefer jokes to reality.
Guffaws won't help you if your nation goes Commie!
So what's the deal...to make everything hey,
nanny, nanny?
Some shrink or smirk with sweat filled brows,
Unwilling to read any poetry except those
about marigolds taking bows?
That's fine,we need poets like that here!
But being afraid of reality is nothing to cheer!
Realists get labeled, or not read here??
Plain, silly, nonsensical, and immature outright
.fear.
As nutty as the cancel culture, banning Snow White!
Heavens, he kissed her in her sleep is no rape
plot nor plight.
Telling young children they have no sex?
Wrong! You were born with an X or Y
chromosome, by heck!
Write as you choose but don't ignore others.
Who have the courage to speak, while others
like fantasy covers.
Respect points of view, other than yours if you
can.
No matter our point of view, love one another,
respect the poetic family of man!
5/10/2021
Categories:
realists, humanity, perspective, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme