Best Soberness Poems
1. My life now’s not too spiritual although
I grew up Christian, for I do not go
to any church. I really do not care
about religion. I believe in prayer!
I talk to God and Know that He loves me,
but certain things I don’t take seriously.
Perhaps for that, the thing that I most crave
I will not find before I’m in the grave!
2. My next life – could it be that I am born
into another universe and torn
from all my memories of life on earth?
My new life here is sorely lacking mirth.
In this new culture, like a slave I live
with rules and rites! With bitterness I give
my time while exercising no free will.
With gloom and soberness my soul does fill.
3. Rewind – “and as my breath flows here and now”*
I’m overjoyed, and I don’t have to bow
to things I don’t believe in, for I need
to choose, but I do not fall prey to greed.
I’m satisfied with what God’s given me
and very grateful simply to be free.
No evil can destroy my thinking mind.
I’m true to me, and always I’ll be kind.
* Quote given by Unseeking Seeker
Dec. 29, 2021
For Unseeking Seeker's Doublethink Beliefs Poetry Contest
When death comes, sordid, scary
I shall not fret, as others do be
I shall not be shaken, not in the least measure
But will welcome him with utmost pleasure
He shall sit upon my crouch
And beside him, I shall crouch
I shall show him hospitality
I shall make the issue of fear, a frivolity
From the lack of meanness of purpose,
He shall, the aim of his visit disclose
Yes, when all is still and shrill
He comes but to kill
But from cunningness and sagacity
I shall, with pretence, make the issue levity
We shall hence drink from the grail
Until our limbs begin to frail
We shall drink of the sweet wine to stupor
To stupor, yes to stupor
We shall talk about our stupid acts
Acts we would in the future, please to retract
I shall say how I diddled
He, how he killed and giggled
Perhaps, I shall frown upon the mention
Mention of the butchery of a loved one, long lost and gone
From the intake of much wine, we shall get stupid
So stupid and our chat shall get insipid
Death himself shall bore and sleep
I too, shall plunge in the world beyond, deep
But before he arises, I shall gain soberness
A state of solemn body and mind togetherness
And lo! Upon the floor shall lay my guest, Death
In my abode, there upon the floor
Upon the floor, everyman’s terror
Unbelievably at mortal man’s mercy
I shall stand above him with wrath or mercy
To kill or to let, the death of many to compensate
The issue of dying and death, to obliterate
But much to the disappointment of many,
I shall not commit to any
For he has no life which I could take
For lifeless he is with nothing at stake
And for the time he shall be in slumber
I shall keep guard and no longer slumber
For if I sleep, he may wake
But no, he shall not wake
And all that would sleep on that night shall wake on the morrow
And upon the dawn of a new day
I shall see him off on his way
Much to the disappointment of my neighbor
The act I know he will deplore
But I shall warn
For to my abode has death come and gone
But to his, it is yet to come.
The only thing that exceeded the dinginess of this rat-hole bar was its stuffiness. I
stopped in the place to make change for a parking meter just outside its door. God! It was
awful in there, and I wondered, how in the hell the three inebriates sitting at the bar
were able to breathe. I made a futile attempt to hold my breath, but the bartender knew
his effort was a no-sell, took his grand old time getting to the cash register. I just
couldn’t hold my breath any longer.
There was a very old *hit-kicker song lamenting about a lost love while the barflies were
adding to the toxic atmosphere with their continual chain-smoking. Finally, the barkeep
reached where I was standing and slammed the four quarters down on the bar with a loud
bang, that it startled the sots into momentary soberness; but just as quickly, they
lowered their heads and continued staring at the legal poison sitting in front of them.
I said thanks and turned to leave, but not before I was compelled to show my displeasure
for his rudeness by asking him, “By the way, you wouldn’t know the average life expectancy
of your patrons, the ones who frequent this rat hole, would you?” Before he could reply, I
was out the door.
Not all jackasses
Bray, nor do they have four legs;
Some are just blockheads.
A persistent dream
Where all my family
Anyone ever born
In my blood line
Is sitting
Waiting for me to wake up
in my living room
Thousands of cousins, grandparents
and second moms
A Fleet of similarly composed individuals
Kiss and embarrass me
As I come to in fog
Even the thousands I have never met
Know exactly how to lift me up
Rock me to soberness
It is difficult to fit all that blood
in one vain
The faces in the back
Are always blurred
An uncle' tongue
Stormed out of his face
Slapping my sister in the face
Old grandfathers
All sat in one corner
Wondering how to it all ended
Next morning
Awake
In my living room
TV hums something about family values
As the room feels bigger
Rather emptier
A room as Saggy as life
When people are removed from it
Against their will
Innocence
Never twisted guilt
Soberness, simple minded
Heartfelt
Young eyes blinked, bashfulness
No such things as monsters
Sleep tight
Sleep tight
No such things as monsters
Years dawned on
Mascara dripped
Troubled eyes
Losing hope now
Childhood days, fade away
They take me into darkness
Turn on the lights
Turn on the lights
Haunting nightmares
I looked under my bed
There was a monster
Staring right back at me
I jumped on my bed
Below my covers
I was scared as can be
Shaking at the image of what I have become
There's a monster in my bedroom
Yet I'm all alone
What is happening?
Life is changing
Life is changing
We are the monsters
We are the monsters
There was a mirror underneath my bed
Your eyes can't deny your reflection, it replays in your head
When we all grow up we become the monsters underneath our bed
Don't be scared
Don't be scared
We are the monsters
We are the monsters
We all grow up to be monsters in the end.
A Cynosure of Sadness
As gun has that sense of humour in the trigger,
It triggered my mind that I clouded darkness in your happiness with sadness,
Sadness that is brewed from failure to curb the vase of your love,
Sad that is being punctuated by disappointment that can't bend to your calls,
A gait of loneliness that widens by the open gate of my embarrassment
It is a cynosure of solace.
As magnate files out iron filings from chunks of dust,
Sadness attracts malice intent as it kills happiness,
Sadness embeds itself with deception lie and cheats,
Sadness that fathers hatred a bona fide it savour most,
It sads how love is neutralized in the bog of sadness,
It is a cynosure of sorrow.
A fail in raising the need for house graze fight,
Fight that has an eternal engagement with sadness,
A salt of sadness that blends well in perfect love and kills its soberness,
Halts not and give birth to somber of drunken sadness
It cyclone a clone of peace that can't digest, as it allows to be poisoned,
It is a cynosure of sadness.
First man standing versus last man standing.
It doesn’t matter if you are living in a humble hut;
Just make sure it is built on the hills of honour.
It doesn’t matter if you are not impressing others;
Just makes sure you express yourself beyond borders.
It doesn’t matter if your purse is not pompous;
Just make sure your passion and purpose is not porous.
It doesn’t matter if your past was painful,
Just make your present peaceful and your prospect powerful.
It doesn’t matter if your sins are like scarlet,
Just be soaked in soberness and seek for serenity.
It doesn’t matter if you have flaws and falls…
Just have faith and focus to fight on and move forward.
It doesn’t matter if you are slow, just go steady.
Success is not all about speed but significance.
It doesn’t matter if your foundation is faulty,
Fix it if you can or find another ground and forge ahead.
It doesn’t matter if your foes are fiery and forceful;
Just make sure you have friends who are ever faithful.
It doesn’t matter if your forefathers failed;
Don’t be a fairytale for future folks…to read.
It doesn’t matter who is leading, if you are still in the race,
Put your heart on winning and increase your pace.
God bless you.
The best is not always to be the first man standing but the last man standing!
On the field of battle,
Young brave and strong,
We are stripling warriors,
Ready to bring it on!
We are fighting the darkness,
Piercing through with truth and light!
Charity is our standard,
Faith, courage and commitment our delight!
Captained by our King and Holy Commander,
We are guided by unconquerable right!
With flaming swords in hand,
This is the truth for which we fight!
Rising up to face the gauntlet of hell,
Yet we fear no death,
For we think upon our one true King,
And more firmly upon liberty than life!
We are true at all times,
In whatsoever things we are entrusted.
As disciples of truth and soberness,
We walk uprightly before Him.
We do not doubt,
God, will deliver us!
Our family, leaders and friends,
Have taught us to believe in Christ!
Bridge: (Said in a warrior’s voice)
With such miraculous strength,
And mighty power,
We did fall upon the enemy,
That we did frighten them exceedingly.
Oh what joy to be a warrior,
For not one soul shall be lost!
We will fight and win and never quit,
No matter what the cost!
Highlighting the Lord God’s omnipotence
Bible stories expose His miracles
along His mercy’s faithful persistence
smiting torturous hatred’s tentacles.
Greatly enthralled by biblical events
my special child yearns for their retelling
animatedly done, no one prevents
his call for these chronicles propelling:
Creation wonders hold his eyes spell bound
as he recites Genesis 1:1 well
with thanksgiving midst praises that abound
through sign language, truth he does clearly tell.
He delights in surveying Noah’s ark
while traveling inside the floating zoo
hearing cats meow, pigs oink, birds chirp, dogs bark
snakes hiss, sheep baa, goats meeh, ducks quack, too.
Glued to Father Abraham’s clear portrait
carrying promised son Isaac gladly
exemplifying faith, superbly great---
dear child of mine keeps clapping blissfully.
Recalling Joseph the Dreamer’s venture
my son mumbles about coat colorful
projecting pit-prison-palace posture
affirming God’s compassion, powerful.
For Moses’ recorded heroism
by the Sovereign’s mighty deliverance
how my child screams beyond optimism
expecting Ten Commandments’ appearance.
Then climaxing his mirth’s jubilation
David emerges triumphant indeed
over Goliath’s defeated sanction
settling genuine godly trust from pride’s greed.
Concluding my son’s jovial Bible trip
he mimics crucifixion soberness
asserting the Saviour’s redemption-grip
offering eternal life’s graciousness.
With joy of pure mirth, shouting victory*
my child hugs me while his book he closes
ending Scripture narration of glory
exuding love the Almighty blesses.
*Psalm 98:1 O sing unto the LORD a new song; for he hath done marvellous things: his right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory.
February 12, 2020
Edited on February 12, 2022
1st place, "A STRAND (1072)" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 2/13/2022.
Today the blurry vision calls to her
Last night She drank too much
And to be honest,
She doesn't know why
It was without reason
She awoke this morning and the air was screaming
at Her to breathe once more
And sobriety, alongside it, telling Her
"It's okay to put down the bottle"
faint whisper.
Experience soberness and that it's okay to feel
Afraid.
OF WHO YOU ARE WHEN YOU'RE SOBER
It's a whole different person.
Who is powerful, creative and connected
but it's also, someone who feels so mcuh
and feels the pain all too well
And sees the demons people describe as medicine
She can step in-between all the heavens and hells
So, yeah, She's terrified of who she has become because
she can become so much more if she just allows desire to infiltrate
one day at a time.
And today, I miss her
and her wings
Wounded, but still flying
and today, I miss her
and her smiles and laughter
That presently exist, but could..
ever multiply
And today, I miss her because She's been skipping meals
because a demanding voice yells inside her brain and head
That hasn't been there for a while..
But has once more, returned
See, the darkness loves to imprison her and cause her to backslide
but I think, now, She's ready to catch it
Hook, line and Sinker
So maybe this is her making a decision to be
better again
to be strong
and to beat those demons down
12/15/17
Squalidness—Squabbling squeamishly;
Scrutinizing stigmatized scandalization, substantially scarce
Sprightliness...skeptically surrendering
Shamefully—Scolded sardonically;
Snarling splenetically, severing sensibility, scowlingly simmering
Strenuously...sought survival
Sparring—Sinister sisters;
Seductively swiveling soreness, sarcastically snared, swirling
Storms...sporadically striking
Slowly—Sacrificing stories;
Scorching slanderous subversiveness, suffering suffocation
Senselessly...smoldering serendipity
Sinfully—Silent stranger;
Sneaking skillfully staring
Presumptuously—Pursuing pretentiousness;
Promises protruding pithiness,
Potential problems...penetrating
Frantically—Forsaken fantasizes foresee;
Different Man Flourishing...
Suspiciously—Supplication solicited;
Subjectively settling, storms subdue, spontaneously subsiding
Surprisingly...sanctuaries submerged
Sobriety—Soaked scathingly;
Staleness spun savagely, strangely straying, sprung
Scourging...southern spiral
Suddenly—Solitude strangling;
Shallow significants seedily surrounds scrupulousness, slumbering
Spitefulness...shunning sympathy
Systematically—Struggling swiftly;
Skulking shadows slithering, seized sanity, seething
Stragglers scrapping...smuggling
Supposedly—Soberness swarming;
Sunrises selectively swerving, sunsets scattering
Emotionally—Erraticism encouraged;
Enduring essential enemies,
Equivocal excursions...escalating
Hereupon—Heretics hushed hereafter;
Different Man Henceforth...
Relentlessly—Reaping ramifications;
Remorsefully relapsing regrettably, resentful realization recognizing
Reflection...refusing reality
Condescendingly—Condemning contradictions;
Cautiously concealing contortions, conducting contrived conniptions
Conscientiously...capricious consciousness
Arrogantly—Acquiring awareness;
Ignorantly ignoring ideologies, deceitful dramatic disagreements
Transpire...transitioning transgressions
Occasionally—Ostracizing occurs;
Overthinking orchestrates overreactions, obsessively obtaining optimization
Brazenly—Begged, blindingly became;
Different Man Behindhand...
Clouds of glory
Descending from on high
In our heart wishing and sorry
In soberness and deep sigh
To live and not to die.
Clouds of glory
The event anticipated
Just like the Bible story
Our faces divinely painted
For it patiently waited.
The Triumph Of Love
This bud of love have blossom,
This sage our destiny is sealed,
They spread the venom with might,
The cancer of the malice chews the foundation,
As we wobbled in quest of truth,
As she smiled at me?
Her smile caressed me, the smile that went through me,
To the other side of me,
The love that undressed my anger,
Bliss me with seismic of joy,
The love that cuddled me,
And enchant me with hymning tides of jolly,
I sit in soberness and i see the victory,
Victory of our love,
It is power of love, The triumph of our love.
In your fury you were consumed
Torched by the might of your hand
Locked away in your shadows
By a strange rage that took hold of you
I want to cover the blame
For you acted in the cloudiness of your mind
In anger that obscured your reasoning
What fuelled up the furnace
I have no knowledge of
But I know of your heart’s recompense
Yet they seek to cart you away
Exert their revenge on you
Take you to where you can’t explode
And shut that fire anyway possible
I wish to save you from their hands
But your actions justify you not
Nor your act of anger and fury
You have given your accusers a pass
Now they tread on your anger
Despite your soberness or words of peace
They wish to shut you out completely
In all my wisdom and kindness
Even I cannot save you from the upshot of your fury
Too bad the jury finds you guilty
Forgotten old time of sinful life
As I boldly stand with shinning lights
Then my lamp filled up in Holiness
As my oil is sustained by faithfulness
Period of darkness lust and vice
Lost forever and never will it be alive
Falling and rising never my time
Purity and chastity never got for a dime
Was bounded and made a living dead
But then I saw Him and He said
'I will make a way in the wilderness'
Even a river out of desert of my barrenness
Then into a fruitful life of righteousness
There I fell at the cross in soberness
Then He washed me by His blood
As I was freed from bondage of lust in the world