Best Shatterproof Poems
the bottle bounced,
said shatterproof.
kids have to do it
more than once.
mom’s countenance
shatterproof -
probably laughed
behind the scenes.
more likely created
creases, mad lines.
when our kids
don’t show up
on time -
when the watch
ticks slowly
fear growing…
anger ticking,
if relieved
by the doorknob
jiggling…
shatterproof,
no explosion,
just quiet,
sheer silence,
no glance,
no hello
when ya know
you’ve completely
screwed up
shatterproof
at remembrance,
when your kids
likewise
turn the key
recklessly
if they’ve made it
home, you sigh
with relief,
with epitome,
with resignation,
knowing they’re stepping
into the whole wide world
…have you made them
shatterproof?
tears at times
…when ticketed
…heartbroken
…pregnant
We survive
We are alive
S H A T T E R P R O OF
6/24/2023
some days are too long, too draining, too sad
some days last...
frozen
something missing,
blame is all you get
stop screaming,
the outside world isn't listening.
this door is closed.
the judge himself is not man enough
to judge himself-
he worries about
unrelenting judgments
that began in the New York Hills
the eastern door when
you bit your lip as a guarantee
inner turmoil was real to you,
the wall is real to you,
and you can’t get out
this door is closed.
stay a little bit longer on the ground-
do whatever your blue collar working-class hypothesis tells you.
your roots
are shatterproof,
life on the street is harsh
harsherer than life in the joint
and every five seconds somewhere in the world, someone goes blind
and can’t find the door.
Conviction so precise, I launch missiles of truth
Indestructible rhymes, unbreakable and shatterproof
Infiltrating your foundation and breaching your walls
Collapse on your composure cause your conscience to fall
I can convert your beliefs, cause philosophical treason
Alter your perception like the changing of seasons
Cutting down your preconceptions, my tongues a two edge blade
speak to your peace and send it into a rage.
Unearthing your terrors; exposing all that you’re fearing
a psychological apocalypse, prepare,the end is nearing
Sending your thoughts into a frenzy with waves of confliction
I can drown you in the depths of my intentions,
I boldly walk the lines between chaos and sanity
Annihilate your arrogance and, erase your vanity
My thoughts ascend and evaporate into the atmosphere
Cause the universe to cry upon you with blood stained tears
Blurring your vision, like a blinding light
I can deafen your hearing, and deaden your sight
Rattling your rational like the clashing of clouds
Awaken your silence and make it scream out loud
Contradicting your theories I cause you certainty to shake
trembing your imagination, like a cerebral earthquake
Violating your intelligence, mental penetration
executing your expressions with lyrical assassination
Chiquita Baity
I remember in my 3rd grade class our paths first crossed
You reached out for my hand instead you touched my heart
Since then we've built a bond that's unbreakable and shatterproof
We share our pains and we nurse each other's wound
Always looking out for one another in our times of need
So close we are we speak without uttering a word;
We share a language that's secret
We built a wall to guide our confidences and no one can breach it
I bring to you this moment my silent confession
Chiquita Chiamaka Baity, you are my very best friend.
Poem written by: Wole Francis and Chiquita Chiamaka Baity.
contest: Grab a mate and collaborate.
Theme of contest: Friendship.
Date:08-28-2011
I remember in my 3rd grade class our paths first crossed
You reached out for my hand instead you touched my heart
Since then we've built a bond that's unbreakable and shatterproof
We share our pains and we nurse each other's wound
Always looking out for one another in our times of need
So close we are we speak without uttering a word;
We share a language that's secret
We built a wall to guide our confidences and no one can breach it
I bring to you this moment my silent confession
Chiquita Chiamaka Baity, you are my very best friend.
Poem written by: Wole Francis and Chiquita Chiamaka Baity.
contest: Grab a mate and collaborate.
Theme of contest: Friendship.
Date:08-28-201
A silo water casket scintillates glow
Green sea-weed blanket, bright red and yellow.
Pebbles and gravel, in a crystalline show.
Fizzing of bubbles the aquatic-air combo.
A vista of motion, flashes a rainbow.
A bunch of humans thrown, in the confined gizmo.
Dull green eyes, swim an ocean pseudo.
The drift of life, it's all real although.
The wriggle of fins, of the snooty goldfish.
The ripple of gills, of the elite angelfish.
The humble jellyfish, and the snail all sluggish.
The crabs and corals, the intricate gimmicks.
Each and every home marvels marine mimics.
Our penthouse aquarium of ornamental beauty
We all are sealed in our filial duty.
Unbreakable, shatterproof, cocktail glass of captivity...
Mundane activity, glows in endless sanguinity.
Then one day, motionless fish in sea..
will be flushed out, quarantined to liberty...
will swim across free ....the ocean of eternity.
Placed First in Brian Standard Jan2019 Contest
The cold and gloomy weather upon us
Like a shroud of humdrum bitter harshness
Gives us cause to look inward for solace
Stirring up dormant passion to harness
As approaches the day of Thanksgiving
Reserved to express heartfelt gratitude
With joy we count every single blessing
Readjust as needed our attitude
In front of heaped bounty we sit and feast
With our family under a warm roof
Safe from perilous harm from man or beast
Appreciating luck isn't shatterproof
Not taking for granted our good fortune
Thankful every day free of misfortune
AP: 1st place 2020, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on October 22, 2018 for contest SHAKESPEAREAN SONNET sponsored by CAROLYN DEVONSHIRE & JACK HORNE - RANKED 9TH
Inside fleshy walls, wallowing in youth,
lava coarses corrosive through peeled licorice
onward, fleeing the thundering stone
vacillating at the center of a man slugging
elderberry wine, to become both numb and Dionysus.
Yellow convertibles park on brown-banged boulevards
obstructing the ravishing, glacial blue hands. They stretch
unassuming, but firmly grab my empty arms.
Mannequin pale, those twin starved orphans,
offered the chance to grow into men, to feel
rushing gales of breath, trembling limbs of love!
Goodness, grace incarnate in a smile. Blue jeaned
angel, the deliverance of a self-loathing leper
naked in the shadows of his own shortcomings.
Ravaged, I stand stoic; an amorous, wounded statue
on call before her, a tragic hero in vain,
battered in body, in spirit, in moonstruck mind,
ill with the drawing force of four hoarse
scotch-swigging demons, poisonous jealousy
of a starry eyed Italian gondola captain. Who am longing I but
Nobody, wishing for a crack to melt into, or
a shatterproof heart.
Silence is golden, they say.
They don't tell you that gold is not a bubble but a shatterproof cage:
a prison sanctuary for fragile birds.
They don't tell you that gold is a burden to be carried, always:
as impenetrable from within as from the outside.
They don't tell you that gold is a glorified fun house mirror:
distorting every action to perfection.
They don't tell you that gold is a broken walkie-talkie:
a one-way filter for words.
They don't tell you that gold is a mask:
so that where there is a soul in need of consolation
there appears only intricately curved metal:
the mesmerizing, deflective, flawless, and thoroughly non-human gold
that you yourself have wrought.
But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children
come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God
belongs to such as these.”
—Luke 18:16 NIV
WHAT’S HAPPENED TO JORDAN
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that a kid with sideways horns, pawing hoof,
saw the masses using imperfect tongues
with elbow grease, praising God with their lungs.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that letting the children come, is no goof…
that glancing behind, the aisles were well lit
with eyes and ears saint-bright; faithful, tight-knit.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof.
He pounds on the drums. He’s raising the roof.
He concurs with youth. Ears incline to him.
He married Wisdom. They’re verve is a hymn.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof -
though he stumbled, God made him shatterproof.
And as the saying goes, “God don’t make junk.”
No whiskey in hand - only Spirit-drunk.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that his progeny, raised right - not aloof.
He’s raising young men with Christian morals.
Hero, on white horse, unsung with laurels.
Raindrops are falling in the Orange Red clay tiles roof
Announcing a heavy rainfall in the horizon
Inspiring to write a song called Love is Shatterproof
Nurturing a undiscovered talent with passion
Wind, Snow or Rain Acrostrain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jan Allison
Second Place
10-23-2015
Vultures swooped at fast
evading carrion;
Vespa hornet squadron buzzed;
Paparazzi psychology, ruthless
across screaming Macadam black
as the blackest slabs of night.
Sheet lightning born of
flashbulbs popping;
illuminated faces strobed
under toughened glass;
wide eyes, teeth gritted,
urging crazy dizzy velocity;
all the riches and love in the world
could not stop this madness.
The end came sharply defined
in pointless scream of brakes;
smoking tyres losing traction;
arms instinctively covering eyes,
futile protection from Death’s
unavoidable dominion.
The solid tunnel wall
shouted STOP!
A marriage of metal and unyielding
brickwork;
shatterproof glass shards,
wild pearls strewn on
black velvet cape;
rupturing vital organs,
impact snaps of compounded fractures;
far siren’s discord imaging
echoed anguish, amplifying fear.
The unmistakable odour of
Chanel and gasoline.
What images, what captured souls
lay on film in guilty cameras
shamefacedly dangling from leather straps
like one-eyed hanging men?
What story of the last of
life do they tell?
Must there be one of tearstained face,
speed-blurred under toughened glass;
host begging eyes ‘neath curling lashes,
agate yet ambivalent,
inviting or repelling;
lips parted, mouthing one last
word:
please!
shatterproof rain falls
dowsing my calla lily
— birdsong awaits bloom
5/17/2018
We seem to be in cycle of bad luck,
And with the number of broken mirrors that I have noticed lately,
Not counting car mirrors, (I hope they don't count),
Because if they do we will be in a seven year cycle of bad luck,
Til forever.
I wonder if that is the cause.
All I know is that life seems so fragmented these days,
And if some of us didn't know how to sew things together,
Make our own glue,
Know how to battle it out with a roll of cello tape,
Tie a deal together,
Run a telephone tree,
Have a magnetic personality,
Or have reliable contacts in the glass industry,
The size of our paddle would not matter.
So please stop smashing mirrors,
Until we can find a suitable replacement for glass,
That is both shatterproof and environmentally friendly,
And make it soon,
As each day the battle with cello tape becomes a little bit harder.
String is no longer as strong as it used to be
The cracks are appearing faster than I can paper over them,
Five-minute jobs are almost non existent,
And people keep standing on the glass,
Before I can pick it all up.
I have tried google for a solution but mirrors must get broken,
In the virtual world too,
As the internet seems to be,
More fragmented each day,
And the broken glass there just as sharp.
can I follow up
greatest words ever written,
blue skies on thin ice?
should one’s theology be
impeccable...shatterproof?
2/10/2020
Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth.
2 Timothy 2:15 NIV