Best Rejections Poems
In a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
The first thing I’d rummage for is the patience that could’ve led me
To your open arms at any cost
Slow moving nights, without a trace of day-dreamt advice
My home away from home you provided, but without a trace of a porch light
Well I’ll find you but it’ll take so much out of me
And I’ll hunker down and prepare for the motivation I’ll lose suddenly
Well I don’t have the time to find everything
and here is where I put myself aside to choose priorities
But in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
The first thing I would scour for
is the opportunity for mental bandages, only a damaged soul could’ve ignored
And every ring of earth's rotation bringing me to a soured destination
Of knowing now, that you were the glass that kept us separated
I’m antagonizing fight or flight so we establish who controls this
My head’s too far in the clouds, I’m blind to where the runway is
And it's getting hard to tell
of what rejections were the world’s protection
And what were just sacrifices
But in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost
The first and only thing I would gaze for,
Is the paper you riveted with every metaphor
That would’ve changed my view of you, had I not tossed
But mistakes are the thorns that bring intimidation to every flower;
Dwelling on them won’t make you more well-rounded
And it’s about time I started living my life in my own honor
Cause everything I’ve ever lost,
Took a nerve laced under skin and numbed the ends
Before the people pleaser in me attempted to plea with one-sided amends
That would have led me nowhere,
With no one to carry me
So in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
I’m peering for ashes, post-flame
From a shifting smile that disintegrates
Categories:
rejections, extended metaphor, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
The Paths We Choose
by Edmund Siejka
When I was a young writer
I read all the greats
Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Yeats, James Joyce
And so on
I could write like them I said
So I felt good about myself
And wrote a play
In the heat of August, 1976.
Beating the lines on an old portable typewriter,
Rubber mat placed under its steel frame,
To keep from annoying the neighbors
But the walls in the East Village were thin
And next door guessed
What are you doing writing a novel?
She asked
I kept typing
And the rejections piled up
It was then I realized that I was attempting the near impossible
So I stopped.
Something came over me
I started writing again in 1992
Two unpublished novels
And inevitably
The mailman would trudge up the front steps
Lips pursed in a tight, thin line
Rejections coming in like a winter storm
I poured over each one trying to decipher their true meaning
But it was no use.
I wrote a poem in 2009
To my surprise it was accepted
Followed by an email from the editor
Requesting more of my “stuff”.
Someone recommended that I give a reading
At a local library
Start small they advised.
And so I found myself
In a crowded room of poets and strangers
When my name was finally called
I approached the podium
Determined and focused.
After reading my piece
I searched
The audience for their reaction
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Categories:
rejections, life,
Form:
Narrative
Tower, buzz and scurry
Oh great resilient city
Ahoy!
Alive. Scramble bustle earth's
ethnicities
On lurid quests--
A pendulum of tantric turmoil and
Blessed harmony
Quixotic city--brash,
Sangfroid merotomized and
Chrematistic--metro nonpareil.
See a myriad melange of
Tortured splenetic
Souls and great spirits
Noble and soothfast
Great city, your hecatombs
Of underground trains
Roar scream in
Hodge-podge graffiti attire
Fat fuming brattling buses
Grunt their huffpuffs,
And nervous cars scissorcut
Impatiently betwixt tarred and
Cemented streets
August and capacious
Ferruminated grey glass and steel
Towers--Aeeries in obeisance to the
Heavens, erupt in anabasis at the azure
Pearly welkin,
Humming diapasons of marvelous
Melismatic tunes
A gallimaufry of cacaphony and
Sweet sounds--the
Great Metropolis persistently
Thrives.
Streets adorned with sylph fashion
Models, conute churls, street
recrement--dazed and forgotten men,
Enticing shuck and jive
Blandishing street vendors,
Natty brujo business gentry
With their helotry on a
Ferris wheel of daily
Triumphs and defeats and
Cheeky mendicants
Shuffle along allegro vivace
Howling chorus songs amidst a
Torrent of raining dollars and
Coins floating in the skies over
The brazen metropolis.
Snuffling restaurants like hives
Humbuzz the grandiloquence,
Pithy slang and sententious
Persiflage of the day.
A truly syncratic parley
Of passions sentient
Of crimes basilic
Of arts sacerdotal and gratuitous
Of fashions arabesque and outre
Of plays frivolous and profound
Of music sericeous and truculent
Of money pursuits solonic
Of loves ascendant and descentdant
Of rejections mournful and joyous
An e'er persisting cha-cha-cha and
Boogie-woogie of the fierce
Bustling bubbling bold city,
Pendulumming pandaemoniums and
Resolutions, day
Upon pertinatious day.
David John Hart 2003 USA
Categories:
rejections, adventure,
Form:
Blank verse
Life can get pretty hard when relationships go astray.
I believe in love a little less each day.
Marriages used to last fifty years, now they last fifty weeks.
Couples keep breaking up even though true love is what everybody seeks.
I've gotten a lot of rejections because I don't have much money.
Everything gets dark when I begin to think it's sunny.
I have pain and anger because life goes this way.
I believe in love a little less each day.
Categories:
rejections, angst, people, sad, love,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
The day’s hot-the wind like a convection oven
Blows hot air in our faces.
My cap and gown insulates me
Baking me like a potato wrapped in aluminum foil
I desperately fan myself and look around
My eyes search for my peers and see;
The bros that survived school with me;
The others who shouldn't have;
The girls with memories already wet in their eyes;
The people I never met and will never know;
All desperately fanning themselves
In silence and in waiting.
We all are waiting for the same thing-
What's next to come.
For some it will be their names
For another a trip to boot camp
For many including myself- college
A couple can't wait to forget the tortures of high school
And a few will already be planning our high school reunion
because it was the best years of their life.
As I bow my head, not out of sadness,
but out of sheer defeat by the sun,
I scuff up my dress shoes in the clumpy grass of the field-
that just finished another infamous drawn out lacrosse season,
I'll be thinking about the 4 plus years, 8 seasons,
worth of drilling and conditioning I did in that very field and on the surrounding track,
With a flash of ivory across my sweating face
I'll be thinking about
All the nooks and crannies
that I sanctioned for the intimate meetings of my girlfriends
The times caught and not,
All the heartbreaks and rejections,
The friends made, the best friends kept, and the many lost.
The drama, stupidity, and immaturity,
Everything that was and used to be.
And, all this time spent waiting-preparing
for this one moment
You can't help but remember it all
And with one, final sweet goodby-
"NICHOLAS BELLO!"
Categories:
rejections, childhood, education, farewell, goodbye,
Form:
Narrative
Inspired by a tremendously bold & powerful track, “Who we are” by Machinehead
Once upon a misery call
Deception broke bread with diabetic circumstances
Sugar
Coating
Half-assed smiles
Phantoms of a listless fortitude
Haunting today’s unfulfilled promise
As they wear silken layered Khakis
With African cotton dreams
And unclaimed pocket protectors to share their wealth
Amongst other wealthy failures
They ask to make “change”
While folding up heroin-laced $50s under Cabernet bodies of Christ
Once, twice, three times a deceiver
Who dares draws irradiated chalk upon broken billboards
Not the educated teacher
Satisfying extra-curricular agendas
Grading heat-stroked ovulations
On jezebel’s curve
Nightmare of the philanthropist
Giving unto others’ unexplained wishes
The “hungry”, fed
The lonely, shed
S
h
e
d
Shedding retinal rejections
Over misguided wisdoms
As they listen for audible sanity
Wandering within the bellows of an insatiable burden
(Cricket sounds)
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
rejections, america, life, people, slam,
Form:
Free verse
Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words,
and not necessarily my reality;
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing
You can be who you want to be on any level
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys, or places that some don’t even think exist
They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses whether they are just cases,
or me in the absolute right here
My words exude positive intentions;
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections
and reversed dejection
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul
and temptations
Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect
according to divine order
They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time
because up until now,
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside –
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words
Categories:
rejections, angst, art, beautiful, beauty,
Form:
Verse
In the cradled of life's dark garden,
It dwells amongst the murky waters
Primeval,
Behold the creature from the black lagoon.
Nay what is this creation, neither fish or
Reptile.
Yet a blending of both, a high bread's mixture,
Intelligent, and cunning, the last of his species,
To survive.
Brought unwisely did men, bring beauties
Forbidden fruit, unto this lost oasis of Eden.
For alone sentinel awaits to partake in such
A luscious morsel.
So does it not say in biblical text, go forth
And multiply, by a driven basic instinct he
Cautiously watches from the thicket brush.
What a graceful motion moves within the
Jungles domain,
She swims idle caught unaware, the bride
To be herself, charms him with every stroke
Across this lake placid.
With Chameleon like stealth, the groom appears,
Taking his prize to their cavey honeymoon retreat.
So tenderly he greets his mate, from shocks
Dreamy like state she awakes, and recoils in repulsion.
No love's scorn, and tragedies broken heart,
Can do more damage than rejections expulsion.
Bullets may have cut the flesh to the bone,
But was it not beauty, which killed the beast,
And the last sight he saw, was his love in
Another's arms.
So ends natures final verse in this evolutionary
Experiment,
The creature from the black lagoon now lies
Dead, upon this tragic stage of life.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
rejections, adventure, animal, dark, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
This is my ode to the feces of this site. I write, compose, think, delve, soulsearch and what do I get???????????????? Poems too long, poems that won't load, deleted, not copied not updated, nonsubmittal due to some site circumstance. I am not that kind of P O E TTTTTTTTTT who filters in a nutshell, follows the rank rules and love laments their own sillystrengths nas to how people shoud write. Write to yr strength and discount the masses, of which I am not associated.. I posted a pretty good poem but every time I tried to add/subtract whatever, It was erased or timed out. Maybe that's a message Don't have a site that is dysfunctional. I have list more words on this site that I have been able to post. Not that means anything since poetry is a dead art form. Nobody reads, but everybody writes. Rejections outside a site that is not incestual brings dreary defeat. Been there bought that. Fix your site so I can take my time composing and not have to hurry so I don't run too long or out of thought time. Here I f-ing go again. Rewrite rewrite rewrite rewrite againagainagainagain because of yr time oput or something stupid. I am about done with this site. Hey, don't worry,,,,,,, be happy!
Categories:
rejections, angst, corruption, feelings, my
Form:
Free verse
"I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination"
A Rambling Poet
An enchanted place
Where ex lovers still love me
Dead relatives live
Tears from the past dry
Years of mourning and pining
A forgotten dream
Failed attempts are successes
Rejections acceptances
Then I walk back through the doorway
Ready to accept reality
Haiku, Tanka and Crystalline
Jack Horne for Constance’s Three Gems contest
Written 29th July
Categories:
rejections, imagination,
Form:
Haiku
Reflection injection,
I can’t do time so I bear the erections,
like bad economies and serious rejections...
They have relations of stations upon the masters of fakeness,
roaring awakeness,
upon baseness
upon rankness,
...I try hard but hear blankness,
waiting on makeshifts,
I live for the lie,
even if my body falls off of my mind,
just in-case I have to try-
I keep myself wide,
but creep slow otherwise,
beat up the wrong boast-
with character in my eyes,
ride motorcycles to the coast,
act rich,
and not even take a dip.
Categories:
rejections, allegory, identity, imagination, introspection,
Form:
Prose
beyond my beautiful reflection there is self
acceptance make it clear for the misconceptions
of the one's who assume from their perception
and make handouts of their rejections.
I know who I am I know where I stand I'm
determined to expand to be in command
it's in my demand I will continue to rise looking
down on the hateful eyes never will I be what
you expected nor am I here to be accepted.
Categories:
rejections, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
I choose to be happy
In spite of the heartaches, headaches and even stomachaches
I choose to be happy...
I choose to be happy
Inspite of the frustrations, rejections and even opposition
I choose to be happy.....
I choose to be happy amidst treachery, amidst violence , amidst corruption, amidst deception. I choose to be happy...
I choose to be happy...
To uplift with the radiance of smile
To be the change that I want
I choose to be happy...
Categories:
rejections, happiness, happy, joy,
Form:
Free verse
What is my hope in this life?
Without You, under the skies, there’s only hell.
To You, O Lord, I beg and sigh!
Rejections, taunts, helplessness, all kinds of strife,
People, homes, values, all things in peril,
What is my hope in this life?
You expose my heart to tempests; I cry
In deep anguish, I beseech and kneel -
To You, O Lord, I beg and sigh!
Stir my heart to seek You; let not my spirit dry,
For with your absence in this tough duel -
What is my hope in this life?
My little mind cannot equal your wisdom so high,
Amid confusion I am a wondering, wandering fool,
To You, O Lord, I beg and sigh!
Helping grace and love you will abundantly supply;
Under the heavens - will be glory eternal.
What is my hope in this life -
To You, O Lord, I beg and sigh!
6/17/14
**Inspiration from Romans 8:35-39 "...Nothing can separate us from the Love
of God..."
This poem is offered to the people of Iraq ( the Yazidis and other minorities)
going through persecution. Let us pray that they may have the strength to
face all the adversities confronting them as God envelops them with His
immense love and mercy.
Categories:
rejections, bible, christian, faith, god,
Form:
Villanelle
Who what when where, which what kind how many whose, is am are was were be being
been, have has had do does did, shall will should would, may might must can could,
7th grade English, Ms Auman where do u get off postering yr silly salient syallable sanctions on
promising pious poets lurking longingly to properly pronounce your prodigious pounces
rather than straight line serious shooting sonerous sequential sentients telling it like
it really is from ther gutheart grunt grant gifting rather than a premeasured premise
to soothe satisfy your fragile forlorn poetic pompous estorgen ego eccentric. Really?
Relenteless? Ridiculous reality revealing a riotious retention of re rememberance of
rat rightous ridicule. A poem is comprised full alphabetic freedom from
conscious convention conviction
crossed dispelled dimensions of saturnine rejections real and supposed. Take it for what it is and post ponder the real unreal ramifications of thought
prepostpotential patterns. Sit back and enjoy the creative
capacity of people speaking in
an opened consciousness psyche unintruded soul unsacrificed
personna personnified and above all, a humanes helplessly
hovering hoping to hang tightly revealingly a titntilating tomboy
tantrum of blessed bromines brimising blatant blanks of
alphapoeticmirrordramatic ddemeanors destined to outendure
conspicous crappy crude criminal conventions that
serve to stupifystiffle the regal real relentless requirements
of just say it like it is baby, skip the sentient beligerent bulls--t ahole aplenty.
Categories:
rejections, anger, confusion, introspection, poems,
Form:
Free verse