Best Shrink From Poems
I'm young with no identity,
A faceless boy, alone and shy.
To classmates, a nonentity;
My parents fret and wonder why.
I'm part of the unnoticed pack.
I step aside as others pass.
To be alone, I sit in back
And never volunteer in class.
I cannot dance or speak on stage
And hate to pose for photographs.
From social scenes I disengage
Avoiding bullies' taunts and laughs.
Uncaring, they my spirit crush.
At lunch I have no company.
I shrink from hugs and tend to blush
And dirty jokes embarrass me.
I dread the days we swim at school
And shower with the other boys.
I try, but nothing 'bout me's cool.
I lack both confidence and poise.
I'm frightened by the internet
Where vicious rumors often spread.
There mockery's a constant threat
While thoughts of vengeance fill my head.
The girls and jocks just walk on by.
They're unaware that I exist.
No welcome waves or friendly "Hi."
I'm seventeen and not been kissed.
The popular comprise a clique
Where bolder boys have fun and flirt.
Among my peers, I'm seen as weak,
And girls avoid an introvert.
The meek inherit all the earth.
That's what the Bible verse asserts.
But while alive, we've little worth.
We're targets for disdain and hurts.
Tomorrow's graduation day.
This high school torment will have passed.
When college life gets under way,
I hope for friends and peace at last.
Categories:
shrink from, 12th grade, bullying, hurt,
Form:
Rhyme
From an insufferable, unceasing rain of disappointment,
I try to hide my scars under the cloak of a smile.
Alas, this master of disguise, fools but one.
My dreams are like a reverent prayer
that's lost its relevance to love.
Shrouded in ominous clouds of deception,
I am a refugee of doubt with no joy in reality.
I wade through poems that never rhyme,
from memories that never mend.
I cower from this rumbling squall of loneliness
and shrink from the shards of misdirected words.
The mantle of hope escapes my ambitions, forever silencing my courage.
I am drowning in discontent.
Brainstorm Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
10/16/2018
1st. Place
Categories:
shrink from, depression, loneliness, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
Nocturnal nerds now Priests of Power
Crank out the code grim and dour
Grimace and groan, grind it like stone
O, you miserable dim ones and zeroes
Bite your nails and pull out your hair
Finish that program ere the sun can stare
At your flushed cheeks and ghastly complexion
At the look on your face of utter dejection
Pop some speed, another amphetamine
Tap out binary digits, massage that machine
Pent up in your cubicle tight as a knot
The screen bristling with tension, electronic rot
Your brain's slowing down, your mind's in a fog
Your heart pounds ever-louder as onward you slog
Curse your damn curser and slam down your mouse
Your soul fairly screams: "Get out of this house!"
You come up for air and you shrink from the light
The daytime for you feels like darkness and blight
Back to your dungeon, where digits are heroes
Back to your miserable dim ones and zeroes
Submitted for "All Dim Ones and Zeros - Programming Contest"
Sponsor: Brahn Bailey
Categories:
shrink from, addiction, computer, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
I am resigned.
I was once full of neoteric life, fresh as morning dew.
Blank as a hardened sponge waiting for that morning, to
soak in all this life.
I was curious and surprised by the innocence of young creatures. Playful, and distracted by all the colors, flavors, scents, sounds, and textures whirling around me. I was but one drop of water yet presumed myself the storm.
I was then full of new life within my growing awareness. I was the life giver. The female womb, ripe as fruit from the tree. The planting of which was forbidden but irresistible in its passion and pleasure.
Life and death growing inside me.
I was then blind sided by reality, by my insignificant self.
I lost the morning dew, I lost the fevered curiosity, I lost the ego.
I was left with cold questions and fear. Knowing myself to be corruptible.
I became the seeker, the hunter, the collector of truth.
The water dried up, hardened the sponge once again with no more mist or dew to soak in. It was not for me.
The colors no longer distract.
The flavors have lost their savor.
No perfume in this decaying stillness.
I am deaf to their noises, and they shrink from my touch.
I am resigned to listen to my own thoughts… of what is to come.
I am resigned.
Categories:
shrink from, age, art, birth, childhood,
Form:
Ekphrasis
When dark, depressing moods consume the joys
of living, we shrink from the world of men
and act like children with their gloomy toys;
we recall a time when this has not been.
O Melancholy, how you daunt us so!
Why are we the doomed apples of your eye?
Too oft', wherever you lurk, there we go
to your tomb where we then despair and die.
But, like Lazarus, we rise in the morn
with renewed life, grace, joy, and faith to cope;
like his Resurrection, we are reborn:
O Gloom, where are you now that we have hope?
O Melancholy, take heed and beware,
for your tomb of our despair now dies there!
Categories:
shrink from, cheer up, depression, happiness,
Form:
Sonnet
ALONE IN WORDS
I cower from the rumbling squall of loneliness
and shrink from the shards of misdirected words.
The mantle of hope escapes my ambitions, forever silencing my courage.
I am drowning in discontent.
From Brainstorm 10/16/2018
For Divisa 4 Poetry Contest
02/25/2021
Categories:
shrink from, depression, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
My heart skips a beat
Whenever a door slams
My heart skips a beat
Whenever I hear footsteps
Days and nights tensely lived
Not knowing what to think
Locks on doors, windows shut
Living a life in a cringe and a shrink
Shrink from most shadows
Images of the unknown
Freezing, still, in my sleep
Waiting for what will be shown
My heart skips a beat
With an impression on my bed
Sleep disturbed, fear increased
Not knowing the thoughts that spin through my head
I live alone, so no one is there
But my mind won’t let me rest
Tightly wound, hands clinched tight
Every day, every day, spent in fright
My heart skips a beat
Whenever I’m at church
I hear the words of Jesus Christ
There’s no fear, or any dread
My heart skips a beat
Because I feel my life is changing
Yes, I still cringe at night
Yet it doesn’t always feel the same
My heart skips a beat
I’ve learned the Father is near
As long as I have Him in my life
I know there is nothing to fear
Cringes lessen, tightness fades
I let the Lord shine His light
Sounds not heard, shadows no more
Jesus is the one to get me through the night
My heart skips a beat
I have been saved
Comforter, Protector, Redeemer
Categories:
shrink from, devotion, faith, hope, inspirationalheart,
Form:
Rhyme
The spring rain pounds on the roof’s asphalt shingles
washing the maple pollen from porches and cars
just moments ago dusted with puce green.
A tumult of rain twirls the waterwheel
on the garden’s ornamental mill house,
splashing merrily into an over-flowing pool.
Freshly planted pansies and impatiens
turn-up their faces for a morning wash,
their nascent root systems drink with glee.
Newly seeded bare spots suck greedily
at the nectar of God, hoping, against hope,
to drink enough to germinate and survive.
The black cat’s tracks, muddy and precise
mar the freshly washed porch floor
And men, made of weaker stuff,
with the melting minds of sugar,
shelter their skin, shrink from the bath,
huddle inside houses and stores
watching, waiting, and wondering,
when the break will come
and we can again
run free in a world
of sunshine!
*element Water
Categories:
shrink from, inspirational, introspection, rain,
Form:
Free verse
Advent
by
Rick Folker
December, 2017
"... you know the time; it is the hour now for you to awake ... the night is advanced, the day is at hand. Let us throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light." Rom. 13:11-13
The light this December
seems somehow, somewhat
dissipated and weak.
It struggles to shine, to show forth
a joyous, hopeful season, fulsome with
nervous anticipation of a new birth - A Savior!
In awe and wonder we hear of of this 'annointed one'
who cries in his crib;
in a ghetto or a flavella with other outcasts, other suffering servants.
He is offering comfort, care, and consolation
for those still strong enough to seek, to survive,
and maybe even to thrive?
Yet; this humble, hopeful birth is over-shadowed
by a fog of fear,
a paralyzing despair
of a people clinging to old tired myths
and lies re-told, re-learned, renewed
once the season is past and our hope
is kicked to the curb with the old tree
and the tawdry tinsel trash.
We seem to shrink from this fading, weak light
in December so that we might remain
in a shadow world of un-checked shame, hidden traumas,
and night stalking terrors, whilst continuing to blame blame blame
all the while avoiding the healing that must be exposed
to the new day; that requires us to be awake.
So tired of it all, yet we remain in our addiction
to the game, and impatient for the promised morn
when the Savior promised he would come again
we retreat to the safety of sleep and vow to ignore
the stark, post-nativity demands of that sweet
Savior newborn.
However...
I choose, this December
to embrace the fading, waning, weak light
and embrace my frightened shadow self
and expose it to the healing light
I will awake and blindly feel my way up from the
cave of darkness, that fetid stench of fear,
and put an end to that long, lonely night
Then with a tremulous, yet confident voice
I will sing boldly with my
fellow wounded pilgrims:
Silent night
Holy night
The hopes and fears
Of all the years
Are met in thee tonight
Categories:
shrink from, change, christmas, december,
Form:
Carpe Diem
(Moses Gava Featuring Kudakwashe Victor Shoko)
Neither did it start yesterday
Nor yesteryear
A scroll further backward
Deep into the historical era
I could see him crawling
During those years of polling
They were born egoistical
I wish I were not
Philanthropic, I would have preferred
To see them holding my trifles
At them I would fire a rifle
Only that my fingers couldn't shoot to kill
With strong aversion
I behold them thriving
Because I'm striving
At them I'm diving
Only to interpose
To forslow them Of course
If jealousy were a disease
Surely I would be among the ill
Opting to get well soon
And so, Starting Today
I will loathe no more
I will cheer evermore
Economically and Socially
I am ailing
Starting Today
I will retreat into writing
My treasure, My company
Lies in that realm
It's my world,
I create what I want
This world
Is an awfully awful place
I'll shrink from it
And venture into were I find solace
Starting Today
I'll excrete sadness and sorrow
I'll take gulps of happiness,
Today not tomorrow
Things cannot go in your favor always,
Let that sink in
You can't create happiness in someone's world
You'll be altering its design,
Create your own world
Happiness or solace,
You'll put what you want
Hell or paradise of your making,
How is that?
The orator is Starting Today
When is your today?
Today is today, Start Today
Starting Today, let's all Start Today
You know what you want, get it Today
Categories:
shrink from, retirement,
Form:
ABC
Riding against the wind, merciless memories nipping at her heels
wearing a Pollyanna mask & a ready laugh to hide the hurt she feels
The stinging words she heard that day hammer her heart like driving rain
she sips thunder & lightning from a bottle but she can’t escape the pain
Rodeo has held her in its spell for all of her nineteen years
Its taught her to make friends with danger & never shrink from fear
Gave her a healthy respect for a life well lived & showed her its rewards
She’s better off for the lessons learned in the back chutes & stockyards
She thought she was well prepared for any hand that Rodeo dealt
Until that fateful phone call, a worse pain she’s never felt
She’d given her heart to a wild Bullrider, a good man through & through
Family, friend or stranger, he gave the best to all he knew
Around midnight the night before, he’d left for an exhibition ride
one last promise to fulfill before starting a new life with his bride
she’d spoke to him early that morning, a quick “I love you” & “Good Luck”
By quarter past ten he was in the chute, shouting “throw the gate & let ‘em buck”
Three jumps & a crazy eight twist, the rigging split with a sickening snap
In seconds his life ended, silence roared through the arena like a thunderclap
The phone was ringing back in Tucson as she pulled up to the house
The caller spoke in monotone igniting a fire never to be doused
She still love’s the Rodeo, still answer its bittersweet call
and she keeps his rigging bag in the closet down the hall
She grew up quick in an eight second flash & paid her Rodeo dues
Now she’s riding hard against the wind & singing the Rodeo Blues
(c) August 2003
Categories:
shrink from, cowboy-western, death, introspection, life,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Why do I love Mr Rochester? Why do I think Jane Eyre should have fallen at his feet and worshiped him? Dear reader, it is for these few lines recorded below which he said to her after she found out that he kept his mad wife in a hidden upstairs chamber:
“You know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still.”
Ah….the sort of love that makes novels what they are! A broken mind….yet there is still so much beauty in a broken mind….
Broken minds bring forth treasures:
in the world of art..Van Gogh…
in the world of literature…Edgar Allen Poe…
in the field of music….Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart...
What is madness? What is a mental illness? Why do we shrink from those who struggle with depression, with suicidal thoughts, with self-loathing, with an inability to receive and give love? Do they love being that way, or do they curse nature for getting their wiring twisted, their emotions warped, and their minds broken? Broken minds still have beauty that is waiting to be discovered…treasures waiting to be uncovered…love waiting to be won. How do I know? I have a broken mind, and yet...there is so much beauty inside me waiting to be released. People may not understand, or accept...they may shun and avoid, but I'm confident in who I am and what I can accomplish. I'm in good company.
Categories:
shrink from, beauty, courage, introspection, world,
Form:
Prose
a tear in each eye
surviving the bad hair days
my tumor and I
both shrink from radiation
the treatments tear us apart
contrast for the word "tear"
Categories:
shrink from, 11th grade, cancer,
Form:
Tanka
Hags with snaggled teeth and black hats of cone
Amidst the moldy graves that mark death's zone
Laugh a cackle that chills one to the bone.
Let the dead come forth and release their moan.
Only tortured souls venture to atone
While the living shrink from this sight alone.
Even strong men quiver as smells are blown
Endless from roaming corpses who must groan.
Nadine watches all as the ruling crone.
'Neath a moonless sky young children appear
Inviting strangers to treat or have fear
Goblins will never again look so dear
Hags with snaggled teeth are shocked as they hear,
"Trick or treat my friends, all Hallows are here."
10/18/2016
For contest Halloween
Categories:
shrink from, halloween,
Form:
Acrostic
An interesting form indeed:
this one’s the Shrinking Verse.
The more you let your ink pen bleed,
the more, stanzas get terse.
The opposite, I must concede,
for sure, would be much worse.
I can’t draw forth the words I need,
an older poet’s curse.
From eight to six to four to two,
so goes the stanza’s count.
Like run-off rain will often do,
a trickle from a fount,
and when you’ve pared to pairs, you’re through:
time for the big dismount.
The rhyming pattern does repeat;
’Tis just an ‘a’ and ‘b’.
The ‘a’ line always has four feet;
The ‘b’ line, only three.
In truth, it’s not that much to ask,
so I will not shrink from the task.
----------
The Shrinking Verse has a decreasing number of lines per stanza, typically 8/6/4/2, but you could start at 12 or 10 as well.
The rhyme pattern, 8a:6b, repeats as many times as is needed for the stanza.
The exception is that the final couplet is 8a:8a
Categories:
shrink from, appreciation, writing,
Form:
Other