Best Steadier Poems
I don’t always know
what I’m worth in this world.
Some days I feel like a loose page
torn from a book no one remembers reading,
a man walking home in the dark
wondering if any of it mattered.
But then I think of the poems —
the ones I wrote on tired nights,
the ones I nearly deleted,
the ones I posted anyway
because something in me whispered
someone might need this.
And they did.
A stranger in Leeds who said
my words kept him company
on a night he didn’t trust himself.
A woman in Manchester
who said she read my words
to her brother in hospital
because they sounded like hope.
A lad in Wakefield
who told me he didn’t feel alone
for the first time in months
because a poem of mine
said the thing he couldn’t say out loud.
I didn’t fix their lives.
I didn’t save anyone.
But I made a few people
breathe easier,
feel seen,
feel less like they were breaking
in a world that doesn’t slow down
for anyone’s pain.
And maybe that’s the quiet truth
I keep forgetting:
worth isn’t measured in noise,
or numbers,
or the size of the room that claps for you.
It’s measured in the small,
unremarkable moments
where someone’s world
is a fraction lighter
because you existed.
So no —
I don’t know how much value I have
in the grand, cosmic sense.
But I know this:
a handful of people
are happier, steadier,
more alive
because of something I wrote,
something I said,
something I was brave enough
to share.
And if that’s all I ever give,
then I’m already richer
than I ever thought
I could be.
It's like a flamin' maze out here
where I'm looking for a name,
where hawthorn hedges line the fences,
and the crossroads look the same.
I'm up and down seems every road;
I've criss-crossed east to west,
as well as going north to south,
where I am cannot be guessed.
I've been through Catani twice,
and three times into Bayles,
so the road and house I'm looking for,
on me mate’s direction fails.
I cannot place just where I am,
with all this wasted time I spent,
then on a crossing close to Caldermeade -
bang! And I'm in an accident.
I was stunned there like a mullet,
with nerves tingling to touch,
I got out to see the damage,
which luckily was nothing much.
Then the fellow in his rusted ute,
stepped out looking pretty grey,
for he'd gone through a give-way sign,
where I had the right of way.
He looked at his car, then mine
with a big sigh of relief,
for there seemed little damage,
were the words of his belief.
So back to the ute he sauntered,
returning with a drink,
saying, “Mate our shattered nerves,
need a steadier I think.”
He handed me the bottle
with the cap on it undone.
I had a drink and then he said,
“Go on you have another one.”
I took a swig and then another,
and me nerves were back on track,
so I handed him the bottle,
and in the ute he put it back.
I said, “You didn't take a drink!”
And he replied to me “I know -
but you can bet that I'll drink plenty
after the coppers go.”
Erik Erikson
described U.S. culture
as stuck in adolescence,
and a more feminist Erika Fromm,
or Erik Erikson,
might have added
Nationalistically stuck in patriarchal adolescence.
Yet in the normal course of biological events,
and spiritual evolutions,
each life,
individual and cultural,
unfolds a rudder.
Each rudder has a Tipping Point,
acting like a pre-deductive
adolescent-curious
rudder,
manipulated by a health-intending navigator,
like the pre-ramp lip
on a wheelchair ramp,
inviting a more cooperative initial push
or final descent
in helpful on and off directions,
left and right,
up and down,
in and out,
back and forth,
Yang ecological economic maturity
with Yintegrative adolescent revolutionary politics,
nondual faces of one co-directing intention
toward recognizing limitations
and liabilities
of competitive adolescent behaviors
too patriarchal LeftBrain dominant for fully mature unfolding,
while also appreciating more cooperatively slow
and steadier
eco-flowing assertions
to politically co-enfranchise matriarchal RightBrain
integrity of improved developments
of and for Tipping Point maturation.
The lights flicker
As the candle flame
As it grows weaker
And grows more dim
The howls are steadier
The feeling of grim
Drip drop
The sound of blood
I try to hold my breathe
That's too much
The stench
Too much death
Voices wailing
Of pain
And of agony
We're alone
But nothing is sure
As long as they exist
I'll live
Continuing my journey
With blades side by side
They'll tremble before me
Rise blood hunter
Pls. Do Comment after reading.
Pls....
Pretty Pls...
T_T
A wishful tale of man's potential taken (with great liberty) from the story of Samuel Bellamy
A frigid blast of the nor'westerly breeze,
the coldest wind upon these seas
ripples the leathery skin of his cheeks
as he scans the horizon for what they seek
Their quest's not one for the faint of heart
yet they know the risks from the very start,
pain and death are always nigh
as they chase their prey 'neath a starry sky
He stands steadier yet, on one old peg
than most men do on two strong legs,
upon the bridge; down in the hold,
his strength's a legend that's often been told
The sailcloth's flapping, the cold wind's howl
the waves that crash across the bow,
are his company as he stands watch this night
and readies his heart for a bloody fight
Though it's still dark, his eagle eyes
are quick to spot their chosen prize
he plots the course to set upon,
their quarry at the crack of dawn
His life has taken a circuitous route
from a privateer to this noble pursuit
he'd robbed the rich of silver and gold
but never before had he been so bold
He's wanted this for many a year
to liberate those facing the auctioneer,
the Whyda 's cargo was a shameful one,
Sultana would free them at the rise of the sun
The quartermaster roused the sleeping crew
as the sky did pale, their courage grew
no treasure this time, no golden plunder
their plan is one of human wonder
To free those seized by evil hands
to be men's chattel in a far off land
'twas sin against God in all of their eyes,
liberty for others then, would be their prize
When I am searching for a healthy leader,
a wise teacher,
a mature mentor,
I look for someone who knows from experience
when a family member dies
a cherished part of her or himself
also is lifetime lost.
I look more for someone
who at least might feel,
even for a short moment,
that s/he would prefer
it had been her or himself.
Why does this matter?
Because without this maturity of extended family identity,
security,
love,
adolescent and even childish issues evoke ego-mania
rather than wiser and slower and steadier eco-passion
with other human natures
as with other EarthTribe cellular health natures.
Cells whose purpose becomes reduced to self-thrival
grow leaders of cancerous pathology.
Cells whose purpose remains to reproduce
their full contribution to organic families,
their extended forests of life,
their ecological eco-root systems,
are those mentors
my healthy wealth most needs
and craves
and would gladly step-aside from my personal agenda
to listen to
and learn
what remains of our synergetic purpose,
regenerative meaning.
I would be more drawn to a parent
who would say
My son broke the law
because I asked him to,
and he trusted me to not ask him to do
or not do
anything that would become a problem for him.
I would steer away from someone
who would say
My son did it on his own qualitative initiative
and never said a word to me about it,
but I respect him anyway.
And,
by the way,
those corporations that fell apart
while I was CEO,
well they did that all on their own
right after I drew my final paycheck
and quarterly return on my short-term investment.
I would not nominate such a person
for public office,
or even any private office,
for s/he does not know the wisdom of a healthy cell,
s/he has not felt the crippling loss of a wise mentor,
and is thereby her/himself exposed to monoculturing cannibalistic tendencies
of self and other exploitation,
eating our young;
not strong CEO maturity
because not a strong mentor of future compassionate CEOs.
The world isn't fair, the world isn't right,
and I can't control how I'm feeling tonight;
but I can control how I react to the pain,
how I live my life while dealing with the strain.
More than two years down the line from that verse,
the first half yet reads right - like an all too true curse.
The second, however, with each day steadily loses its hold;
as do I, on everything that I once controlled.
Sadness scars, but fades with enough time,
and oft with the healing hands of rhythm and rhyme.
Loss lives, but eventually rears its head less,
like Patches, Brandy, Grandpa, Grandma, Brandon or Jess.
These I can ultimately learn to abide,
taking them with an ever steadier stride.
Remembrance turns from taking you to your knees,
one day into fond memories, honoring such as these.
Yet anger is entirely another story,
one turning never to gain or glory.
At another time, I handled it with care,
and did better at never laying it bare.
Now, it surrounds me at every turn,
and ever more for peace I yearn.
I wake to its heavy breathing at my side,
bed down having chiefly failed to turn its tide.
Even the luxury of a hair trigger just isn't there,
for I must simply breathe, to its cruel vestments wear.
It doesn't feel like power, simply rages and drains,
leaving me, weary, to deal with the pains.
Two more years of this inability I must survive;
seems so abysmal, when for simply every day I must strive.
I'll finally know again, with twenty-two summers behind me,
what joy simply being seen as an adult can truly be.
Pieces of me
swollen and sullen
come to peek through my eyes
From when I was raw and young
I have stayed so long in my skin
That sometimes I forget what it feels like
The sensuality
Of when you feel every movement
And every moment
Now my moments ferment
I taste them like a good merlot
Juices exploding like a blackberry in my mouth
Sweet and sour
I have changed in such ways
My mind is now stronger then my body
My heart steadier
I don’t jump at any loud sound
And don’t ache as much when a loved one isn’t around
Every other moment is not a crisis
I have known peace
Perhaps I am less complicated
Maybe I’ve just calmed down
I may not be looking to solve every mystery
But smiles are no longer strangers
Someday I will have earned laugh-lines
A role I’ve become with no recollection
Of when
Or why it became me
But it has
And I look at your eyelashes when we’re lying beside each other
And I understand a little deeper
How a woman can mold herself to be another
How a woman is when she’s thinking about breathing
How a woman can pretend that the mold feels natural
Even trick herself into breathing
Steady steadier
With a hole in her heart, always throbbing, wondering when this became her nature.
i have music, mayhem and meaning in my life. a score for more and a part to the strife. i’m grounded but not without a flight plan. a steadier step for a fall apart man. It’s like i mean it and seen it. it’s a take on a stroll. a hand out for a hero and a hope not on hold. it’s a tell tale when i fell low and miss that's a mess. a heart on a here frame and a kiss that's a test. i got made up and a mind full for a clear and a now. a past time for a good rhyme and a big for a how.
Did you wonder, why?
Your child kneels on the back seat,
Watches, out of the rear window,
as your car, gathers, speed?
Being a follower,
you honk dip and shout,
To overtake cars ahead,
for the thrill of an egoistic bout;
While your little one wonders,
watching the cars recede,
To the driver he had smiled at,
why does he no longer, heed?
Unaware you follower,
you take control of your will,
Periphery flashes past steadier;
the car in front appears still;
Return of happiness,
as a rear car proximate,
A young boy passenger waves,
and your child reciprocate,
With those drivers ahead of you,
you doubt your grace,
Being a follower,
unaware, of the drivers face;
Dog footed deep rooted fist and fouled
Cankerous flea infested unglorified scowled
Floating above the four walled space
Drowning not thyself but every chequered face.
Wing wilted uninhibited web footed guest
Seeking not short lived stay but being adept
Burying your nailed claws in every nook
And the floor space
Even deeper steadier stiffer
For your imperished stage.
I can see your monstrous form when I wake
It hovers over me in sleep and shakes
Every deep rooted breath with lizard and snake.
I wishing the fisted strength to drive you & trod
Over the dunes unsung unrapturous over beaten sod.
Dog footed deep rooted melancholy be not amazed
If I throw myself and you out in the maze.
Solitary walk beneath a moonlit night sky.
Sparkling river reflects moonlight as I walk by.
Geese are flying in the clouds so high.
I also see the northern lights in the sky.
Not so solitary anymore, people at the baseball field.
Houses and a church with their lights, I put on an eye shield.
Suddenly a tree appears to look like a person, so I yield.
The street light flickering brighter as the truth was revealed.
Dogs are suddenly barking from houses afar,
As I walk the street viewing glowing islands so far.
Clouds unveiling the night stars, then I see a bright star.
As I continue to smoke and fill my lungs with tar.
Solitary walk beside a moonlit river sparkling forever.
I am listening to music that fills me with fervor.
My heart pacing steadier as I take in the flavor
Of a delicacy of a drink on which I sip and savor.
Well, let it pass, it was only a dream
And dreams are made to melt in air
It cheered me with a passing gleam
And are realities bound more to fail
Or do they foretell a steadier beam
To gild our thoughts and soften care
Hope was wild! The mountain-rose
Brightness from its bower of thorn
Is more lovely in winds as it blows
Nor sooner, by rude tempest storm
Falls withered where in pride it rose
The joy of earth, the child of morn
That hope has fled, I knew it well
I felt it more when I loved it most
It could not long with mortal dwell
It was a real joy from seraph tost
As over this world his glances fell
He called it back, my star was lost
childhood and old age,
in many ways are alike,
but with an antithetical difference.
when with time,
as children grow steadier in steps
and clearer in speech,
the old become,
staggering in steps
and faltering in speech!