Best Reprieve Poems
Break
what has said has been said
what has been felt still lingers
see the chips and the cracks
too deep to recover
too distant to believe
so there is no reprieve
Costly Reprieve
by Jason Williams
A hypnotic ritual
Holding utensil to flame
It hurts to see the bubbling
But I’ve no one else to blame
I do not care for anyone
I only care for me
About the next fix to get
That's all that I can see
Cotton brushes against skin
The tourniquet stretches tight
My despair will soon be over
I’ll have peace all through the night
An artificial cure I know
Needle piercing flesh and vein
Get me through the night I pray
I have to end the pain
Escape despair is what I seek
By any means that I can find
Even if it's just for hours,
I leave despair behind
When I wake I will be sick
I’ll be broke, I cannot win
I’ll find a way to make it
Then I’ll do it all again.
Is this the life I wish to lead?
Will I ever again be me?
Is there a life beyond repair?
Will I ever again be free?
The desperate man stands alone in the room.
He gazes around at the dust and the gloom.
The chair, it is old, and it creaks when he lifts.
The noose he has tied, it constricts as he shifts.
He rocks back and forth, and he moves to and fro,
He kicks at the seat, and time starts to slow.
Now the visions and voices cease to haunt me:
I am that man, and I'm finally free.
a park calm and hushed
autumn's crisp welcomed reprieve
cool shade for the lark
summer's cruel oppression lifts
an elm shrouded bench composed
AFRICAN SUNSET
Watching the sun sinking into a golden horizon,
My heart’s glad as I watch the evening sky siphon,
The scorching heat from an African day,
Giving reprieve to all life that may,
Rest until the morrow, now a day older and wizen!
Posted on Christmas Eve, happy cuz Trump soon leaves
America finally gets a reprieve from the lies he weaves
Well, pardon ME if you disagree, but he's one and done
He's been pardoning crooks, murderers, daughter & son
giving the phrase, "Who let the dogs out?" the answer
It's the narcissist who infected the country with cancer
It's time for a celebration and Happy New Year to cheer
A new President will reside in the White House next year
Trump will have to vacate his throne. It's been conferred.
No fraud took place or election rigging. That was absurd!
Joe Biden will be moving into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Uniting our country without Trump's drama and ballyhoo
What a poor example he's been as a leader; head of state
America was better off before he said he'd make it great.
Move along with your counterfeit tan and puckered mouth
Take your cocky kids with you as you putt your way South.
Let's hope once he's gone, out great nation will soon heal
with a commander who can keep our ship on an even keel
"Trump's descended into madness," "He's lost his mind"
Recent headlines that his supporters will claim are unkind
but considering the mess he's made of many vital issues,
the only sympathy I can offer them is a box of tissues
The oval office will need steam cleaning and fumigation
No portrait of him to hang. Let him take that to litigation!
It's reported Trump is headed South, to his Florida estate
His new slogan, just released: "Trump 2024 ~ DONATE!"
He's spent more time golfing than acting like a President
His Mar-a-Lago neighbors don't want him as a resident!
The worst possible fraud committed in the last four years
is the fake role he played, condoned by Republican peers
It won't be smooth waters for a while because of the scum
he's left behind; that shameful man, that do-nothing bum
America has been stumbled from each inept Trump blunder
pitting brother against brother; he's ravaged us all asunder
He once said the world was laughing at our great nation
The truth is they laugh at him; a presidential abomination
deprived --
main course only!
no chocolate ice cream,
when you sup at the restaurant.
no treat.
Sometimes when I'm alone at night
and the pains just to much to bear,
I pull out my old friends Smith & Wesson & Jack Daniels
And play roulette with my hopes and cares
I put a bullet in the chamber
And pour whiskey in my glass
I give the gun a spin and down the shot
And wait for a click or final blast
Alas a click is all I hear
And I'm still trapped in this tormented hell
I shrug off the short reprieve by the hand of fate
And fall headlong in depressions well
But the insanity lingers like an oozing sore
And Ilock myself away from a normal life
So I pray an end to this daily war
And the never-ending internal strife
People may judge me a lunatic
By the psycotic words upon this page.
But if they for one night carried this runaway mind.
Perhaps they would understand this poetic rage.
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
That was thrown on the battle field for my soul
The inevitable mortal wound waits for me on yonder hill
As the dawn breaks on the time transcribed for me
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When he was first enclosed
For three dark days and three lonely nights
Until he returned unto the light
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When we are first enclosed
Waiting for his trumpet to blow
And for all of his people to be called home
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
A Reprieve
Alone the banks of the river Pitt.
Such a beautiful day in which to sit.
Mother Nature, before me, at her beat.
I, in mind, in soul and in thought, do rest
my spirit within the bright blue sky.
Do gaze into the past, fill my inner eye.
No haze to vail the many shades of green
that lay in the foreground of this serene scene.
In the background stands – in all her spender,
Baker, a mighty pyramid in crystals of pure white
that bring a coolness, a calmness to my sight
and I realize, there are so many who defend her.
All the while – at my feet – in the shallows, dance
a Great Blue, who, on stilts, takes her stance.
In her cobra like coiling she strikes out
into the shallows, then saunters about
searching for a late dinner or early supper.
A shadow appears above,- in stealth – her.
Suddenly, to wing she chases away
the threat to her territory, her pray.
B. J. “A” 2 ( Bill . )
June 18th 2004
A golden sun tops cobalt clouds
That treasure at day's start
Wispy clouds hang suspended~still
No breeze disrupts the art
Summer days filled with chores unending
Just a few minutes here
When will life give a playful note?
Opportunities appear
Just a second here and there, scattered
Along the warm, sunny day
A Redbird in flight, a Jay's delight
Seems like an hour of play
morning birds once more
return to serenade my
winter survival
January 11, 2010
Every six turns of the moon
A journey to the girl I take.
I leave behind my safe cocoon
Into the noise and into the fake.
The pungent smell of multicolours
Punching nose and mind alike.
I sit and pause in splendid parlours
Waiting for the joy to strike.
And strike it does, oh glory be.
Electric sparks and lowing moans.
At last she uses teeth on me.
Her gentle strokes, my buzzing bones.
Decisions made I walk to water.
She will wash my sins away.
She mentions something of her daughter,
I've never answered to this day.
In my goddess tank I float.
Blues and greens with sea and sand.
I am the castle, and they are the moat.
At last the call comes from the land.
She leads me to the gate and smiles.
Our deal is done, the job complete.
My world is lighter by the miles.
I smile and wave then walk the street.
My pilgrimage is at an end;
Returning to my warm cocoon.
She and I will meet again.
After six turns of the moon.
Amorphous flock
Turns, rises, wheels
And tints blue sky—
Brown starlings, drab,
Uncountable,
At once alight
To dormant lawns,
Bright, sunny street,
And water trapped
In gutter pool;
Flick, splash, shake, then
To slamming door
As one, they start;
Composed discord
Ascends, veers, dips,
Oblivious
That this warm day
Is brief reprieve
From winter’s bite.
A reprieve arrives, hopefully to stay
casting faint glimmers of the sun
so long held hostage by the clouded grays.
now undone.
The needed rain pulls back
but the landscape is still pale green,
frozen in time unpacked
a lime mist floating on the air can be seen.
It appears all creatures were released
from hibernation of the sudden chills
and the yard comes to recognize a quiet peace
that pervades gardens and unleashed growth is spilled.
A woodpecker knocks repeatedly
answered only by the call of distant geese
and the glow of the sun warmly heated
and robins hover singing in the trees.
A grond-hog climbs a frail cherry weeping
to challenge the squirrel presence
and the heron struts boldly around the pond creeping
looking for life and its inner essence.
Spring is reborn
producing life and color to the earth
as winter looms in the background unadorned
and spring comes alive in its rebirth.