Best Running(A) Poems
GHETTO GOSPEL
BY STREET CRIES
ABANDON BUILDINGS HOUSES WITH NO PARENTS ALL CHILDREN
READY AND WILLING TO BE PROGRAMED BY THE TELEVISION
GUNS WITH PRECISE PRECISION
PAIN PILL GOT US COMATOSE LIVING
KIDS MAKING ADULT DECISIONS
TO SURVIVE IS THE MISSION
WITCH EQUALS TO SENSELESS KILLING DRUG DEALING
LIFE IN PRISON
NO RESPECT FOR THE LIFE THAT'S GIVEN
PEOPLE GETTING RICH OF HUMAN TRAFFICKING
SATANIC RITUALS CELEBRITIES PRACTICING
OPEN YOUR EYES AND SEE WHATS HAPPENING
ARE WE A SLAVE TO THE WAY SOCIETY GOT US ACTING TODAY
ARE WE PURPOSELY LEAD ASTRAY
CLONE MEAT APPROVED BY THE F.D.A
VOICES BEING SILENCED THAT HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY
WE SEEM TO BE RUNNING A RACE WITH NO RELAY
STUCK IN A PLACE WITH NO LEEWAY
TRYING TO OVER COME OBSTACLES
THANK YOU FOR READING MY GHETTO GOSPEL
GOODNIGHT
Rare Cooking This Fine Morn
To have deep-thoughts, dreams a poet slowly eats
Or spiced casseroles of ink-piggy feats?
Meals written on yellow paper to enjoy.
Chinese fried rice with steamed adjective soy!
Experience new dishes, of rare flavor
Spread like butterfly wings upon glazed ham.
Pour tasty hot liquid words to thus savor
Bluebird wings sprinkled in blackberry jam!
What ? No essays, delightful adverb desserts?
No pans of Poe-like raven-baked pies
Yes! And add in boiled rhymes and magpie tales
Booming baked echoes of Mobydick whales!
What next? Fiction, tasty mysterious spurts?
With deep fried fish and red-button from shirts.
What taste? Tonight toasted Spanish serenade
With sweetest Sangria spice red Kool-Aid!
To have deep-thoughts, dreams a poet slowly eats
Or spiced casserole of ink-piggy feats?
Meals written on yellow paper to enjoy.
Chinese fried rice with steamed adjective soy!
Robert J. Lindley
Rhyme, Lin 10/11
Syllable count
11 10 11 10 0 11 10 11 10 0 11 10 11 10 0 11 10 11 10 0 11 10 11 10
Total # Syllables: 223
Total # Words: 146
Note, a Lindley family tradition, I cook the last day of the old year..
I've already completed breakfast and got the idea to cook up something on paper..
Lunch is running a bit late...
I cook but no hurry, is my motto.
We ask God’s blessings for food we eat;
those who toil to grow it deserve our prayers too.
In 1985, Farm Aid musicians took their beat,
rocking in donations for those who grew
in debt, not just crops, as mortgages came due.
Mellencamp cried out, “97 families lost 97 farms!”
Just the local tally of the Reagan years' unprecedented foreclosures
that threatened the nation’s bread baskets, sending out alarms.
Farmers’ financial disclosures
were bloodied by high-risk exposures.
We ate the fruit, but cursed the price.
Bounty still filled the market’s produce section,
even as running a farm became a roll of the dice.
A Kansas tornado would have had less convection
than growers who were denied debt protection.
Bailout money was tossed to the auto maker,
where corporate jet vacations sparked ire.
But farmer suicides climbed, blood on each acre.
A national famine might have transpired
if to save farmers, rock musicians had not conspired.
Inspired by John Mellencamp’s Farm Aid song “Rain on the Scarecrow.” An Indiana farm boy, Mellencamp recruited Neil Young and Willie Nelson to organize the first Farm Aid concert in 1985, raising awareness about the loss of family farms. The Farm Aid concerts have remained an annual event over the past 29 years, and as of 2014, the organization has raised over $45 million to help farmers. I chose this song because it demonstrates the social consciousness of rock musicians.
Song is at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=joNzRzZhR2Y
*Poem written November 8, 2014 for Kelly's "I Love Rock and Roll Contest.
The Agony Outside
Still sitting here wondering why my reflection always fades
And how that the phantom me causes shadows in the shade
Flying over thoughtless things as my sanity starts to slide
Breathing in the toxic fumes from the pollution of moral lies...
So intelligent but don't understand the things I contemplate
Lonely boy in the corner scrutinizing his own fate
Why is everything so confusing now brain activity losing pace
Crying on the shoulder of the reflection of his own face...
Time is running out tripping over the edge of being too deep
Life is just one endless day going months without sleep
The progress within killing me may be running a bit too high
Still left with doubt and wondering whether to live or to die...
bmdavey@04/26/16
}*{
A light rain drizzles through the humid morning air
The sun slowly rising, as if without a care.
Awakening the sleepy world to the dawn of a beautiful day
I grab my trainers and im on my way.
Refreshing liquid falls ever so smoothly, rejuvenating me
Feeling alive, a gentle breeze, feeling free.
The coldness emerges from the droplets, chilling my skin
Running a solo race, that no one needs to win.
My feet hitting the pavement, my body begins to happily rejoice
This day is mine, what I do is my choice
I run where my heart and soul are joyfully entranced
My feeling of freedom, totally enhanced.
To where im me and im running free
Ill be fine, that I can guarantee..
}*{
Falling in love
Caught in a web that a spider is spinning
Counting his legs as I notice him grinning
Perhaps a dream that is just now beginning
I must be falling in love
Singing a song while the music is playing
Don’t know the words, I make up what I’m saying
I can’t stop dancing, my body is swaying
I must be falling in love
Running a race down a path that is bending
Seeking to finish, I know it is pending
Sweating so much it could be never ending
I must be falling in love
Chasing the moon that is constantly shining
Waving my hands as if stars I’m designing
Even with Elm trees I’m forever pining
I must be falling in love
Picking up petals another is dropping
Sweeter than vanilla butter cream topping
Delicious moments there’s no sense in stopping
I must be falling in love
Hitting a drum in a cadence that’s pounding
Played in a very nice rhythm, astounding
Just like a heartbeat in spring it is sounding
I must be falling in love
Writing a poem with words that I’m feeling
Every desire your beauty revealing
Asking your hand as I’m carefully kneeling
I must be falling in love
Now as I stare in your perfect eyes glowing
Feeling affection they’re constantly showing
Finding each day of my life I am knowing
With you I've fallen in love
Here is my dreamiest, dream job.
I will get to drive a fire truck and use the sirens - all the way to work and back. The gasoline will be paid for by my company.
There will be no committees, and no paperwork. No one will be required to do anything they do not want to do.
Everyone will be the boss of themselves. We will get to design our own luxurious offices. We decide what our work is.
The woman next to me is designing houses for people who do not have them. I am running a creative writing center slash art studio for pre-teens and full teenagers.
The woman who envisioned this company pays us what we decide we are worth. My best friend spends her day in an enormous greenhouse creating hybrids.
We eat a family style lunch and brainstorm our terrific ideas with each other. There is a lot of laughter, the walls exude joy. We want to stay late.
We have a hot tub, a swimming pool, daycare center, school, and arcade on the premises. The school is manned day and night, even weekends, so our children can go to school and learn geometry or psychiatry, or zoology at any age. All they have to do is talk to the teacher. They can go to school on Saturdays and all night! They love school because the curriculum is designed around their interests.
We can play whenever we want to play, swim whenever we want to swim, design whatever we want to design. Supplies are unlimited. Paper, pencils, coffee, fruit snacks, lunches, and suppers, are all free.
We design our day the way we feel it should go. My perfect career makes me feel respected, and is fulfilling in so many ways. My friends are here, and we help each other so often, they are my family; I am part of theirs also. We each have an apartment if we want to live here. It is soundproof so we can sleep at any time. Naps are encouraged. The perfect workplace. The only time we leave is to worship, because it is strongly encouraged to get away for one day and worship the deity and religion or non-religion of our choice.
A political pundit with power
stuffed dollars in his purse by the hour.
When called to court,
he said “Why not, sport?”
My daughter’s in real need of a dower.
And, while running a nasty ad game
He cried out “Why I’m not to blame!”
He did it too,
So *crew to you!
And he rose up on a tide of acclaim?
Achieve greatness by running a race.
Break sound barriers- just go to outer space!
Climb a mountain to get a good workout.
Deliver a speech- you'll probably have to shout...
Earn some money by helping clean up.
Film a video where you put on makeup.
Graduate college, online, of course!!!
Hire for the future; build a great workforce!
Improvise a sketch and perform it for all.
Just watch a sad movie, and prepare to bawl.
Kidnap an animal, then keep it for yourself...
Laminate bookmarks and organize your bookshelf!
Make some yummy cookies, brownies, or a cake.
Nestle in; watch a show where all they do is bake.
Optimize your storage; start with the dresser...
Poke around a bit to find some hidden treasure!
Qualify for a job, or just peek at the website...
Read some poems; mine are sure to excite!!!
Sleep all day, then pull an all-nighter.
Take some time to become a songwriter!
Unfold some origami, and then fold it back again.
Vandalize something, if you can't, just plan when...
Wander around, and pretend you're mist.
X-out something on your bucket list.
Yammer on about your favorite subject.
Zip your zipper obsessively- jeez... are you occupied yet????
No one faces lost love rationally,
forgoing all their romantic notions.
For confusion confounds reality,
when running a gauntlet of emotions.
Doubt anonymously attacks with guile,
its impact devastating to dreamers.
And fears flourish on the remains of trust,
disrupting slumber with nightmare screamers.
You've been fed a concoction of lies,
a highly emotional, potent mix.
And you're no longer able to forgive,
shielding your heart behind a wall of bricks.
Wallowing in your pain, you shun support,
as fantasies conceived in love, abort.
Her language drips with intelligence
The slow drizzle of innuendos
and proclamations from which
she speaks is like witnessing
stalagmites and stalagtites
finally touching as if
each syllable was measured
by a drip
so edifying
And it's not just what she says
but how her lips catch the light
of a candle glow
and how the corners of her mouth
dance with her dimples,
her essence is edible
quite incomprehensible
how one can starve
by tasting it
I love every morsel,
every crumb that falls haphazardly,
to the floor, jealous of the way,
her tongue can be so judgemental,
inviting then inciting, enveloping
making me wish I had
lettered in spiritual dynamics.
I would have been a star
without ever touching a ball.
Her hello, and me running a million miles
in my mind trying to think of some other word
that rhymes with this title
other than bed...
I am fed
Whining, it happens when blizzards come calling
Grabbing a jacket I walk down the stairs
Beside the window where winter is lurking
Waiting about as if nobody cares
Coating the trees with a cottony fabric
Not quite as warm as the heater detects
Here in the handbook of problems and answers
Only for masters to come and inspect
Grabbing a scarf from a shelf in the corner
Pouring a cup just to dance in its steam
Maybe some sugar so life can be sweeter
And just a dash of your half and half cream
Kicking the mud from the boots made of rubber
Purchased on sale at a shop on the beach
Next to the flip flops and lotion dispenser
Low to the ground and so easy to reach
Those were the days when the sun wasn’t hidden
Blanketed white like a sheet on a rope
Held up by clothespins of wooden construction
Seeking a breeze with the fresh scent of soap
Shoveling sidewalks and not chasing seashells
Feeling the cold as it bites through your skin
Running a faucet to thaw every finger
When will it be time for all this to end
I guess I will go out and trudge through the weather
Deal with the snowflakes, the slush and the sleet
Before too long I’ll be sweating the summer
Probably whining about all the heat
Last night I started smoking again
I chose the corner in my yard
where I felt the safest
Under the flood light I could see
everything and the glaring made me invisible
Somebody was running a bath
children were crying over the street
and my neighbor beat his wife again
The coal burned in saffron red
each puff confirmed my breath
and the death of an approaching moment
My wife was calling for me and I did not want to respond
you see she was worried about the 14 years
I was going to squander on the box
The light fused, the children stopped crying
Bob Seger sounded up in a bathroom
The beating next door was resolved
with screams of love making
"There you are," my wife said
and I thought to myself
"damn this poetry"
Life is beautiful pain
Suffering is seldom a choice one would accept,
Why change a custom in which you’re safely kept.
Personal and spiritual growth can come with a toll,
Though benefit you will in your mind and your soul.
Pain is perfection allowing you to heal then grow,
If not for the bitter the sweet cannot glow.
Imagine a life where every meal is ice cream,
Imagine being burnt but not needing to scream.
We may plunge from great heights into depths of despair,
Now look at those around you and see what you share.
There is joy in the purest most intangible of things,
Sharing a blanket or hug and the warmth that it brings.
Beauty like a rose is the more precious for the thorn,
A Rhino’s just another mammal save for its horn.
The majesty a crack of lightning brings to a storm,
Your senses on fire when spring begins to dawn.
Struggle and strain make the winning worthwhile,
Take the first step soon you’ll be running a mile.
The pride you will feel can never be replaced,
After fighting and beating the troubles you faced.
If you're lucky enough and suffering comes your way,
Heed these sage words and let follow what may.
Don’t walk with blinkers on for fear of getting lost,
Open your heart to experiences no matter the cost.
Date penned - 22/05/2018
Theme - The rapture of this life
Contest - Let Your Pen Drip
Sponsor - Broken wings
I am an amateur athlete running a race.
In earnest, I try to speed towards my goal,
My feet embracing the earth I tread
My legs aching, but careful not to fall.
I encounter many obstacles in my course
But I keep covering some distance day by day,
Seeing every hurdle, a challenge to jump over,
Conquering every trouble that comes my way.
Is not our life a race from birth to death?
Through rough and rugged roads, I run,
My face to the wind and my back to the sun.
Until I reach my destination, my journey isn’t done.
I am in no hurry and wish to run at my own pace,
Knowing the race starts right where it ends.
I focus my eyes in front, that I won’t trip,
And look up to God that a helping hand He lends.
In this ride towards my destined goal
I often stumble, but as I cover each mile,
Though with difficulty and hardship,
I feel like a victor and have reason to smile.
I strive to take each step as a rhythm in motion-
An attempt to push forward for a goal to reach,
With the pulse of energy coursing through my veins,
Not giving up, not allowing any breach.
_______________________________________
Never mind, you don’t achieve all your goals,
Or the winner’s trophy, you may not flaunt,
Keep running with all your might
That’s all what matters, I can warrant.