Best Skills Poems
College none,
Highs school drop out indeed.
English I am still learning.
Tutored not in the writing.
Asked,
"How?"
Given life from Above,
Heart to live & breathe,
Seeking beyond me.
Author He is,
Entrusted me with the pen,
With Lovely Words of Faith,
"Now do something with all of these."
..... cus i aint got no mother plucking rap skills mucker,
I'm a poet shall I show it
rhyme the line combine and row it,
I'm a sick ink flicker
tips fidget like a widget
I'm a little bit prolific
that's a rap
so get with it
such a good chorus,
now feel the force of the fall as we move forward
cus I rap awful,
admittedly I havent got an ounce of pure ability
I'm the pit you see,
lips slip over lyrics like I'm tipsy
I link in, sync up like society and gypsy,
and I know what I sound like, yes I'm listening
while you sit there in your pants you just pissed in,
I miss the beat repeatedly
like a fall winter springs back to summer scorch
see it's fabulously written
I'm just crap with the rhythm,
raps a cat and I'm a gibbon
in a strap on with a ribbon,
I rap it for the hell of it,
accolade irrelevant
I'm heaven sent malevolent...….
Kind words are so very soft
We want to hear them so oft
They erase niggling old scars
So very soft, kind words are
Soul loves a healing touch
Grateful forever it's as such
Inner poisons it so removes
A healing touch, soul loves
You must pass a loving smile
Show bright canvas on an aisle
It reflects your grace and class
A loving smile you must pass
Soft skills we all must learn
Let no ashes remain in urn
Though muscle power thrills
We all must learn soft skills
21.6.2020
Enter the ' Swap Quatrain' Poetry Contest of Emile Pinet
"He would spin one pistol in one hand in one direction,
while spining the other pistol in his other hand in the opposite direction.
He'd have two targets, one in front and one behind him.
When someone yelled "fire!" he'd simultaniously fire both guns,
hitting both targets, the target in front and the target behind him."
- I am of course paraphrasing,
the words of one of Billy Bonney's close friends,
describing one of the shooting skills of the Kid.
His friend's paraphrased words are still none the less accurate.
I'm letting out the geek in me
he's on a different frequency,
a freak of nature you must see
feeding you the ecstasy,
I've got a brain far superior
and a pencil case by my side,
a foot that's got bacteria
an athletes foot in my stride,
I could show you my toe
with my in growing nail,
I could blow my nose
or fart out a smell,
H2O on my Epiglottis
stops fluid to my Trachea,
you don't know what that is
absolutely no idea,
Stuck in a Freaky Friday I must
touch Miss Lindsay Lohan's bust,
but then I feel her down below
and all I flipping feel is crust,
See this is the geek in me,
virgin nerdy freaky,
bird is a word, I'm free,
a bumblebee,
flying up high over trees
when I have the right breeze
but if I ever fly out to sea
I'm sure I'd be deceased.
Everyone has a special talent
Everyone has some special skills
Nothing is eternal under the tent
Everyone is entitled to some special deals
Who are we to prejudge or judge?
Who are we to refuse to budge?
Once in a while, comes a little surprise
Most of the time, it is no good to surmise
No one is the same, no one is perfect
We all have to do our best, to be correct
There is only one first time
No one has the same shade of paint
Lemon is yellow, and different is lime
Everyone has a different talent.
Copyright © October 2016, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
I’m out to reel in the limelight
as I rhyme tight with sublime might,
filling each line each time without decline
as I climb to a blinding height,
a magical skill of a mastermind shining bright
with dynamite scaling up til miniscule and out of sight,
this is a mystical tale of frightless fight to feisty flight.
Before this I lived in the shadows,
born to be worn hopeless like a saddo,
wearing a beard in bed buried in a burrow,
each today, each yesterday and each tomorrow.
I was stuck in a bubble
contaminated by sorrow,
self destructive in trouble
encapsulated and narrow,
under impact I stumbled
collapsed and fell low,
fractured and crumbled
to be an isolated fellow.
I was falling at speeds that feed friction,
ingredients fire needs in ignition,
sparked into a fireball in free fall,
and out darted a need for survival,
these incidents the mind's designed for,
in a spiral my instincts went primal.
I went from deprived of a drive that life should provide,
to the arrival of survive with no thought to thrive.
Admittedly a little bit of me
could see I had an ability
that was missing ambition to mission
so it lived submissively
in submission.
I started to mine my mind and be mindful,
dug up strength deemed unfindable.
As I exposed my core a force sped forth,
a desire to war poured forward to dwarf
what rivals and install a sure feel of reward,
after I stop this soaring fall to the floor.
Apply my whole mind to try
and stop this nose dive
of a fireball in the sky,
if I couldn’t fly I’d glide
until control was verified
and my wings opened wide.
Dashing out the ashes the Phoenix Rise,
detached from what crashes into land from the skies,
I’m out of this world, The Phoenix Lights,
a marvellous presence with presents for eyes.
I’m Nick Trim they called me a thicky,
I seemed dim they took the mickey,
they made me look silly, it wasn’t tricky,
but I learnt tricks at risk conflict me.
Now I’m the trickster that’s off the Rictar,
flicking the switch to be the victor.
I'm Nicholas Trim and I'm stupendous,
the way I rhyme is just Trimendous.
What a fabulous way to end this,
read my poems and recommend us.
Stereotypes on the mic are all alike
one with the rest
can I stress I'm the best on a savage conquest
to conquer those plonkers with lyrical bonkers
institutionalized no, individual guy,
about to spit to all the fools
I live a life with miracles
you scream out scenes with vocal cords
that draw on boards the done before
a blunder under wonderful
in the bin and dumpster walls,
these Trim sounds sing original
the dawn that spawns phenomenals
ba-da-der ba-da-der ba-da-der ba-da-derks
yes I write these words and that rhyme bloody works
sing along and feel the perks
I think I rhyme the just desserts.
GIVE GOD THE CREDIT
Give God the credit for all things good,
Give God the credit, you know you should.
Even though you may create a poem
Or plant a garden or make a home,
It's God who gave the skill to you
In every single thing you do.
You may play a harp with flare,
Or plant and mold with special care.
Perhaps your hands have nursing skills
Or your repair a need fulfills.
No matter what God gives you to do,
Give all the praise to Him--not you.
So, if you want to thank your friends,
Remind them of the love God sends.
Encourage to give thanks to Him,
For He has given skill to them.
God gave us brains, He gave us brawn,
Let's praise His name and not our own.
Copyright 2005, Kathryn Search
Jealousy leaves a bitter taste in one’s mouth
Like a persimmon plucked before the first frost,
The consequence is sarcastic, mean words spit out
At immeasurable cost.
As for me, yes, I am envious of raw talent I don’t have
But in a positive way, I admire gifts of others glossed,
I believe swallowing jealousy stifles and chokes creativity
At immeasurable cost.
A person is more content doing what they alone can do
Not measuring it against what someone else has tossed,
For we are all special in our own, uniquely gifted ways
At immeasurable cost.
So, I try to do my very best, developing my paltry skills
I do not concentrate on, but simply enjoy, not accost,
Others who develop and share their God-given talents
At immeasurable cost.
written March 18, 2022
I want to say something about cursive writing (this might seem random).
I’ve seen articles saying that cursive writing is a “dead art,” that computers have destined it for oblivion and questioning whether cursive writing should be taught in schools now-a-days.
But if you plan to go to college - relearn it and practice it, because you’ll need it.
Random hot fact. The first time you have to handwrite a multiple-question essay test - where each answer requires five hundred to a thousand words (a written page) - handwriting, in block letters, is unsustainable.
Your hand will literally cramp up - dog, you’ll suffer, your essays will suffer and so will your grade.
Writing in cursive is faster than block lettering and with a little practice, it’s effortless.
My sister told me this once, and this morning, as I watched other students, one third of the way into our essay test, grimacing and flexing their aching hands - I just smiled to myself.
Yeah, you can thank me later.
Everything wrong now,
Will be gone in a blink.
Even though things seem dark and bleak,
Just give out some smiles and a polite wink.
Don't just decide to take a life,
You're not the only one who deals with strife.
"No one will miss me when I am gone",
If that's what you think then you are wrong.
Come on, you can do let us be strong.
Don't make people start from zero.
Throw the pills out.
Be a hero.
This is your life, let's not waste it,
Life is short
Come now
Face it
Everything you see today
didn't matter yesterday.
So when you feel down and out,
Just look to the sky and give a shout.
This is YOUR life
And it's what you do now that counts.
So put away the knife,
Get ready to live your life.
And put the gun down and throw out the pills.
It's time to show the world you're mad skills.
Communication learning systems
like organic people
and plants
and living planets
could include education subsystems
Teaching/studying
employing nonviolent principles of communion
dialogue
co-reflection
co-investment
To optimize multicultural health
deepest
widest
wealthiest
most polyculturally inclusive
robust
thriving EarthTribe communion
To repair retributive justice win/lose
discommunicating corrupt systems
to restore global green/blue
regenerative peace
Multi-generational
holistic win/win learning systems
could include historic education
re-communicating
reconnecting secular and sacred
ego/eco-bilateral systems
Employing co-passionate principles
of trauma prevention
to replace social crime infection
and state autocracy deception
and federated kleptocracy invention
Unitarian inter-continental communication systems
redundantly responsibly regenerative
could include polymorphic learning
co-empathic emotional skills
employing compassionate organic communication
win/win mediating dialogue
metamorphic reflection
To optimize health wealthiest
EarthTribe polycultural communication
for learning climate thrival skills
healthier organically together
than falling robotically apart.
No talk, no walk,
No laws, no clause,
That's her way of dreaming.
Just the silence between the journey,
The peace connecting two broken pieces of heart,
Was the making of the bro sis art.
Their relationship was an art,
Not just his and hers, but even those who aren't related by blood.
He lauded her through all the thick and thin,
He gained her trust more than kith and kin.
To her, unique was his taste
Though he had his own shi*ty fate.
Neither more nor less does she know about,
For he was a mystery man,
She wanted him, though he didn't belong to her clan.
He wanted her..but the art wasn't supposed to last.
A rumour, a slap, a betrayal and their dreams got crashed.
She shove him, he was sensitive, and her agony had no limit.
He was a close brother, who she lost out of suicide,
In his last days, she couldn't be by his side.
Regret's a b*tch , she's bearing it to this date,
Coz he opened her life's most fearful gate
Those Saturdays, those bunks to drop by the complex,
And the magazines, those weekly tarot, that never gave a glimpse of their darker days.
His alter ego turned him a villian, snatching their hay days,
Ceasing all dreams that didn't get its wings,
And it wasn't just his life, she had also seen the worst.
Now look what she's upto, stuck up in a med school,
No him, no wings, and she ain't enough cool.
Diving in the ocean all alone, for the big sharks to eat her up.
It's a tale, with a broken tail, applauding for the pain she felt.
At the peak of her breath,
comes a climatic death.
1/8/2018