Best Sane Poems
For walking, by early morning sharp 6,
Parking my cycle by children’s park,
Started I, round the park.
Breeze severe, drizzle slow.
Rushing to shelter I see rain,
no welcome face in park.
happy inside I showed aversion
my surprise! Flowers smile, butterflies dance,
bloody some flies too joined the dance.
passion in me got triggered .
I wanted to dance with flies
try catching butterflies and flies .
I fear for, all in the shelter may laugh,
my dignity my respect I bother much.
envying the butterflies and flowers
Lucky fellows gifted to dance and smooch!
I saw a boy near me in my spirit.
tried sweet talk to make him dance in rain.
too smart this fellow, he wanted me to dance first.
I cursed the younger generation for not loving nature
I told him, “In our days we would dance the whole day”!
fellow said, “you country fellow, I have a date today”.
I cursed him “go hell. Dance with evil spirits”.
I became very nostalgic of my childhood days!
By school days ,I try all eccentric things .
Believe me,I even lay flat on the ground
and look at rain in all angles.
Even research on reflection of light on rain drops.
Today I could never imagine for that in all rain
probably I have to take a picnic for that.
But for sure, the sense of rain
always makes me nostalgic,
a great cure for many of my untold pains.
rain,you come often for, I would live sane……
15-11-2013. by Jenish Soosai anthony for
"Fragrance of rain" contest by nette onclaud.
~~How I remain sane in life
One sees endless strife.
Where can I find some peace?
Being with family does help.
Meditation and music calms.
Where can I find some peace?
Petting my cat is so soothing.
Meditation and music calms.
Dwell on sweet memories.
Where can I find some peace?
Being with family does help.
Dwell on sweet memories.
How I remain sane in life.
June 3, 2020
Noon PST
Poem, # 1218
I guess I once was a juvenile delinquent. Then I became an adult delinquent. Now I'm a middle age delinquent. Soon enough I'll be a senior citizen delinquent. When all is said and done and it is all over I'll just become a dead delinquent. Ha Ha.
He looks into her catatonic eyes
and wonders what lies
beyond the vail of sanity.
Does the madness she screamed of hold her captive
in the twisted bowels of her mind?
He prays an escape she will find,
from the silver scaled dragons, setting villages ablaze;
no bloodless days.
Ogres fattening themselves
on tiny elves.
The constant clammering, to and fro,
an endless row
of angry, squawking, flightless birds.
And why did she, in black and grey,
to his dismay,
scribble across her beautiful painted landscapes?
Perhaps some familiar sounds
could bring her around.
A click of the remote for her favorite newscast.
He turns the volume high,
over the noise outside;
lines of traffic honking in rage.
On the news, a city falls.
Bombs blasted its walls.
It lies in a heap of smoldering ash.
Someone lost their dreams
on Ponsey schemes,
and murder rates creep up again.
In utter disgust,
he feels he must
turn away and look out the window.
To his horror and surprise,
he recognised
the "scribbling" of streets and power lines
strewn across the beautiful landscape.
His eyes glaze over.
Somewhere far away,
on a warm sunny day,
barefoot lovers run hand in hand through lush green fields;
on the sane side of the veil.
How often have I asked myself this question
As I reflect upon my image in the mirror each fine morning
And wonder,
Who would want you, really want you
And wonder too if sanity might be an arrow in her quiver.
Or more likely, as seems certain, she is kin to Humpty Dumpty
A good egg perhaps but she’d have to be quite cracked
To ever be with me.
With two eggs you have an omelet,
Which is really not that filling
But with three eggs…….
Now you know why I’m alone.
Dreaming always dreaming
Our juices now are scrambled
If I could be a three egg omelet
I swear I’d never roam.
So pour me in some cream,
Sprinkle cheese to make me randy
And bacon bits to add some crunch
My God we’re cooking now,
Some golden onions fried just right
And peppers to add color,
A little salt, a little pepper
Things are really firming up…
Denver’s coming boys right now!
Yeee Haww Ladies!
Whew………..!
Do you-all take American Express!?
Brian Johnston
March 30. 2015
There is a fine line between sane and insane.
It is so small its hard for us to explain.
We all have our little quirks and ticks.
But were are not insane, its nothing to fix.
There isn't a single person who hasn't had crazy thoughts.
We just don't talk about them, that's what we are taught.
When we meet people we keep it locked inside.
We push our tendencies down and if asked we lied.
How many of us over-reacted to a broken heart?
Calling your ex a thousand times, that's the crazy part.
Or getting mistreated or fired from the place you work.
You know what you wanted to do to that boss or jerk.
And how many of us have been called neat freaks?
Its because that little voice inside us always speaks.
Don't you think that is just a tad bit strange?
I am not trying to point out that you maybe deranged.
My point is, we all have our moments of doubt.
Were not sure if were insane, but we never let it out.
We show others what we want them to see, the rest is buried.
Women let it come out after your together forever and married.
***For Nancy Jones' contest, “Fine line between...”
Seek sensuous start
Align apt art
Note nimble now
Etch end endow
Speak softly still
Art aims appeal
Notice news nice
Explore entice
Sow special space
Answer ablaze
Nurture next note
Endings emote
Sell sober signs
Aplomb aligns
Nagging nature
End exposure
Sort signal stray
Appeal aims aye
Noose never nice
End enterprise
Stupor seems still
Anchor anvil
Now noisy news
Engage enthuse
Leon Enriquez
07 June 2014
Singapore
rising from bed in the morning
seeking shelter when it's storming
idly whiling stray hours away
dreaming there will be better days
fabricating a self-image
with a more prominent linage
doodling on back of a letter
shunning life as a go-getter
paying of various taxes
wielding rhetorical axes
stopping by the grocery store
dealing with muscles which are sore
waiting in the queue at the bank
musing why the page remains blank
finding the proper words to say
quickly dealing with come-what-may
filtering life's little lessons
leaving positive impressions
contemplating all that might be
if we'd just win the lottery
making life much less exacting
all in the action of acting
discovering what keeps us sane
among remains of the mundane
Bountiful, careless, fixed, blind and programmed to kill....
Death, evolution.
The splendid structure comprehend imperfectly
Feel humility.
Thin screen of nature glory of omnipresent
God bursts everywhere
The whole of nature conjugation of verb “eat”
Active and passive
Nature Infinite center everywhere
No circumference
Nature, a teacher, preaches no sermons in stones
Spark more than moral.
A river leaves trash but has the sense to come back
Again to get it.
+++++++
May 7, 2014
Form:Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Second Place win
Contest: Subject listing by Sheri Fresonke Harper
Beyond the hills, the storm,
oh, yellow queens they quake;
poor Autumn aspens feel
old weight of weakened leaves
the hostile winds will steal.
Beyond the hills the storm
it brews, like coffee black.
A bitter sky will fall
—dainty saintly sunlight
a martyr for the squall…
Beyond the hills the storm,
My dreams in strobe-light flash.
Engage in shadow dance
the clash of sane and bane;
a silk and burr romance.
Beyond the hills the storm—
yes banshee gonna wail!
The gray steel rain a strafe
a suitor six-shooter.
My tongue; a silent waif.
Their minds are a paradox,
A riddle too complex to solve.
Their thoughts like a labyrinth,
A maze of madness that evolves.
They walk among us, hidden in plain sight,
A puzzle to be deciphered, a mystery to unfold.
For they are the sane mad men,
Whose stories are waiting to be told.
Their creativity knows no bounds,
As their minds dance to a different tune.
For in their madness, they have found
A world that lies beyond the moon.
They see beauty in chaos,
A different kind of truth they find.
Their imagination runs wild,
For they have a different kind of mind.
Some call them crazy, some call them mad,
But they see the world with different eyes.
They are the ones who never conform,
For they are the ones who dare to rise.
Their minds a canvas, their thoughts a brush,
They paint a picture that's uniquely theirs.
For in their madness, they have found a rush,
A feeling that only a few ever dares.
So, let us embrace these sane mad men,
For they are the ones who make life a bit more fun.
For in their madness, they have a gift to share,
A new perspective, a different kind of sun.
In.sane in the membrane of my brain
or sane in the insanity of this game...
Row row, I'm rowing, between synapses
I'm flowing, silent rivers I'm riding
like a train...
Rollercoaster rollin' faster, in a flash
synaptic laughter, as these neurons
remain.in the lane...
"Hey you and you two,
Me too? Yeah dude, her too..."
Synaps the chatter in my brain.
"Nervous sister? We're not kidding
it's a system living, listen, we're
the hear in the sphere of your sane.
Checkin' time in between and
between the membrane."
10 billion cortical pyramidals,
passing signals, giggles, riddles,
checking time against a rhyme
from the outer layer to middle.
~core.text you say codexes delay,
it's a logical process.ical, theoretical way
crazy spelling these a'daze.....Codices.
Breathe... and don't mess with our cortex
messages..."
Inner wind, blowing high, gears shift
moving this ride, hand wiggles the
scribbling scribe as I write.
Memories into the light, but who
in the train remains tonight.
As I look about with my candlelight,
in the night, there's One.
Am I in.Sane?
The voices, inside my head
Screaming, while I go to bed.
I shut them off with physical pain,
Expecting to be sane again
There’s a monster hiding behind the smile,
A smile that hides it all.
There’s a window to this broken soul,
To which you can’t reach at all.
The constant battles, with my thoughts
The battles that I lost.
I shut the voices with physical pain
And expected to be sane again.
Sitting here in a chair
Whishing I could breathe the air
Just like everyone else
And be sane again
Trying to get out of here
Escaping from people’s stare
Trying to be like everyone else
Be sane again, sane again
The voices, inside their head
Screaming, while they go to bed
They shut them off with physical pain,
And expect to be sane again.
There’s an altruist hidden behind her scars
Who knows the pain of all,
Tries to rescue a stranger from shattering apart
Because she’s seen it all.
The people, that I know
Say I’m perfect and I should know
They ask me why I cut my hair
And changed myself completely
They don’t know about the voices inside my head
That scream, while I go to bed
that I shut them off with physical pain
Expecting to be sane again
They don’t know why
I’ve learned to hate my own guts
Scribbling on my
arm with a blade
They don’t know why
I still want to hurt more
Wanting to die
Life’s well played
The voices, inside my head
Screaming, while I go to bed.
I shut them off with physical pain,
Expecting to be sane again
But now only scars remain
I am sane again.
Speeding down on this train
Becoming even more insane
You can't make me see the light
Reality gives nightmares flight
A broken picture with empty frame
A lifeless life living among shame
The all blinding light shining so bright
My own conscious gives no fight
My conscious has become empty as a bottle
Numb as I speed away pushing down the throttle
Cold night air numb on my skin
Twisted mind full of only sin
You judge and analyze us all
But far from grace you too fall
Ignoring your own arrogance
Preach your own ignorance
We're all just passengers along for the ride
Divided right in two for there's never one side
The insane are now leading the remaining sane
Off the limited rails speeding farther away this train
To be sane is to have insane moments of free-wheeling laughter.