Best Stoic Poems
"Bring it, life, all your adversities...they only strengthen me!" - quote by poet.
oh, adversity...
haven't you exhausted
all efforts
to knock me off my equilibrium,
to make me
cry a river?
you came to break me in two
yesterday
with bells on;
jiggling around your ankles.
instead, all you got in return was
only....a shrug.
you saw no sign
of weakness on the surface
or deep within me.
you waited for tears
that never came.
you kept on poking
yet your needle pricks
didn't make me wince
you stabbed me with daggers
that never punctured my skin
or made me bleed....
are you disappointed?
surprised that your sharp weapons
cause me no pain,
but instead, tickle me?
go ahead, keep making me
stronger.....
Written: October 28, 2023
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Among the living is where perfection is found.
Stoicism is a path of life that acts as dull ground.
The advice is to focus on the bright side of life.
Dispel the negativity, and let vanish all strife.
Inciting people to enhance their morality
To foster resilience in the face of adversity.
Strengthening your resolve and impediment
Beat iconoclastic wits for a fine pediment.
Grasp of the overarching rationality
Sustaining integrity even amid adversity
The Stoic Path is a philosophy of such depth.
With wisdom and tranquility in your breadth
Life taught us to persist in the face of hardship.
To sustain balance while still preserving worship.
Maintain calmness under challenging conditions.
Surmount your inhibitions and avoid suspicion.
And to welcome fulfillment with dignity.
Handle highs and lows with stoic sympathy.
Stoicism, truly, provides solace and calm.
A way of living that allows us to fully qualm.
How? By concentrating on our inner proclivity.
And shedding our bonds is an act of loyalty.
We are liberated from the bonds of conflict.
And accept a promising, significant life profit.
The Stoic Way is a philosophy with lofty stature.
steers our deeds into an improved, sound future.
Integrity and prudence in the face of misfortune
To mold ourselves and have a vital life and fortune.
where the pipeline meets the lake
spewing sewage in its wake
several snowdrops grow and help to paint God’s earth
and as acid rains from clouds
upon the litter strewn by crowds
lines of daffodils speak more than words are worth.
next to piles of household waste
tipped by those who fly in haste
there are bluebells growing wild on urban floors
and as plumes of factory smoke
suffocate disperse and choke
there are birds migrating to these hallowed shores.
where graffiti daubs the wall
of society’s wrecking ball
there’s a patch where tulips dance beneath our sky
and as shards of broken glass
lie in pieces on the grass
two young lovers holding hands walk slowly by.
A stoic sentinal midst waves,
you staunchly stand erect and tall.
Emerged in frothy, churning white,
you hold your own in nature’s squall.
Atop, your beacon light shines bright
to let the mariners know well,
there is a guardian at sea
that can be seen above the swell.
How stoic now you bravely stand,
against the terror of this storm.
Your eyes look out with searching beams
for those caught in the sea, forlorn.
What glory when your light is seen
above the mountains of white waves.
Salvation in your light of red
denies the sea more mortal graves.
Our path, sometimes grows arduous with bends and twists.
Trials of life keep tormenting us and others.
It's miserable to watch or endure such suffering.
But despite all heartache, we feel we are not done.
When I see the swamp bird with broken wings
Struggling to rise from the water’s edge.
When I see the deer, running away from its predator,
With all its might, I am filled with a zest to fight all odds.
In my doubt, such scenes fill me with reassurance,
Making me feel the rush of blood in my veins.
Today is the only day, a minutia of life,
To get all wrongs right, to seize all opportunity.
Adversities can hang heavy on us, pulling us down.
But muster courage and catch the bull by its horn.
Winds may blow, tempests may rise,
But don’t relent, persevere, and endure.
Never allow your fears parade victoriously
Through the spectrum of your dreams
When you feel life as bland and monochrome
Think of the colors of the rainbow arching in heaven
To make life sweet, recall all the sweet moments,
Those that you want to re-live again
Sure, there are a million of them, joyous and sweet,
Exciting, and engaging, pouring balm on our scars.
Let us freeze those moments in time!
Too precious to go off our heart.
They make life worth living, worth cherishing,
Giving each fresh morning a kick start.
Have you forgotten to laugh over a prank?
Have you stopped watching a lovely scene?
Have you evaded a gregarious company?
Have you failed to enjoy a savory cuisine?
Break free of all the ropes that bind!
Let loose the spirit within and let it fly high.
Shed out your dry reticence n’ reserve!
Let your geniality, many hearts win!
FATE LEADS THE WILLING
when my life
my very wellbeing
depends on the actions of those around me
it’s a trial to my innate sensibilities to bring my side
if my destiny is to live my final years in isolation
cut off from the interaction with others
it shouldn’t be any hardship
as I can employ this time to the enrichment of my scant knowledge
to learn to do without material trappings of this capitalist world
admit that we are guided by the rules of nature
and I must accept all things are beyond one’s own personal power
every day
every hour
every minute of my day
is another chance for a different path
there are very few things that we can control
also those who resist the pull of Fate will feel hamstrung by events that alter
their life plans
an individual who accepts the things that occur in life that are beyond his
control
can lead a happy life by controlling negative emotions and passions
et du volentem fata nolentem trahunt*
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*both Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling
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POET'S NOTE: The prepenultemate and penultimate lines (both 23 syllables per line - the top of the range as far as breathing is concerned) overrun the line space, hence the indentations.
All lines were checked via Howmanysyllables.com
18 Stoic Faces
- by Bob Atkinson
eighteen stoic faces
faced four who had come
to read the erudite refrains
of poets both dead and gone
readings were in earnest spoken
for respect for some who had
garnered from the establishment
accolades, awards, well sanctioned
yes, eighteen stoic faces
faced four who read so good
those meaningless diatribes
of useless linguistic words
significance became not evident
for similes provided here
metaphors vaguely crafted caused
me not them to revere
this didn't change my attitude
my demeanor didn't rise
waiting for an end to it
was my only real desire
so I couldn't clap and whistle
and be smiling in my face
that would not have been sincere
became just a little bit ashamed
whistle I didn't do at all
felt not much real emotion
gave a polite nod to those speaking
headed quickly out the door
save me from disjointed thoughts
can't those people see the truth
senseless disorganization
does not good poetry produce
of those thoughts not poetry
I firmly do believe
the fireplace requires cellulose
for bright flames to feed
listless words written poorly
carried my imagination not
was frozen in my dreamy state
rusted any worthwhile thoughts
next week went to Vegas
to see the eagle band
and watch as pure emotion
rocked that audience grand
ten thousand had paid apiece
a couple hundred bucks
to see those wordly masters
like Henley, Frey and such
they told of the situation
which emotion played upon
a woman's real life choices
why she'd become despondent
ten thousand cheered upon
recognition of great words
displayed while coddled with sounds
soft guitars and drums beat purrs
I thought "now here lies real poetry"
not those prissy kind of words
that speak only of the unimportant
with wispy mindless verbs
some lock credentials grand
for that which moves us not
and laugh at the suggestion
that song is our greatest art
me, I have a vision
that we shall all enjoy
songs we've grown up with
as emotional literal tomes
Its a story of an ambivert
The charade lively mingler personality
She was an acumen
The amiable heart
But she had another face
Shrinking violet persona
A soul who was forsaken
A creature who was ostracized
The spirit who believed that she was the most unlucky mortal
The one with the silence
Maybe she was in need of a rescuer
She abhorred being favored
The place where the soul achieved the peace
was in the silent lane accompanied by Her chaos
The quote she believed was
"The devil is for real"
Probably she was the one Who was a friend of demons
Maybe her past made her believe in this fact
Maybe she actually met a devil for real
Maybe the demon is her savior in the tumult of her chaos.
Stoic Silence Serves
The silent stoic stands
mumbling ice crusted mantra
“my light must never fail”.
Riddled by the sting of stony hail
blanched white by salty spray
peering into the maelstrom’s eye
un-blinking in the excoriating gale
knowing its duty is to serve
those in need – at their worst.
A silent storm’s “eye” mocks
the stoics steadfast stance
unable to comprehend such light
retreats again to fleeting fury
howls at the penetrating beam
exposing the peace within its core.
©7/18/2017
submitted to – Lighthouse – Poetry Contest
Be your lifes' grateful Master,
Nourish a fluffy cluster.
Day by day and drop by drop
You'll receive a cosy crop.
Let a pioneering thaw
Be your mentalitys' law.
Let your belief, passion and zeal
Be your motivating meal.
Have inside yourself a spark
Even when it's cold and dark,
Always have a stoic zeal,
Don't let anything it kill.
stoic warrior
feathered master of night
nocturnal lights shine.
(January 21, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
wild waves we' will face
in this rough sea that is life...
thus brave, stoics we'll win
I have the greatest admiration for it
Though every one usually dislike it
It exemplifies indifference to the hilt
That makes it an extraordinary beast.
It is often seen standing nonchalantly
Suffering the woes heaped on it coolly
Without troubling anybody absolutely
Deserve treatment by all benevolently.
Neither protest about the harsh treatment
Nor challenge the owner’s punishment
Does the work assigned without dissent
That certainly epitomizes great restraint.
Unmindful of the vagaries of environment
Eating whatever is available as remnant
Yet forever ready for the job any moment
It keeps going without becoming poignant.
It does practice philosophy without preaching
From whom humans must receive a coaching
To lead life in the face of worries approaching
Is the reward it awaits humbly with no craving?
They marched in like they owned the place
In uniforms, formidable and menacing
Bereft, looking around with hostility
Bayonets in hand, immutable in their stance
They pillaged what was not theirs
She was lumped in their vicious interlude
So enraged was she, her body lay brittle
Taken by force, abused and humiliated
A reluctant starlet in a morbid sketch seeming to last forever
When the men left, there was a short tenuous instant
But she picked up her courage
With her scattered clothes
Made her way to the shore
Demurely walked waist deep into the sea
To wash away the last traces of disgrace
Determined that their assault would not last a minute longer
Chalked it up to being just another victim, another statistic
Life would go on, she would turn the page
Refusing to sacrifice the rest of her life
With another thought of this gruesome ordeal
Refusing to be a victim for a moment longer
Not giving them the satisfaction
AP: 3rd place 2025
Submitted on October 20, 2017 for contest EIGHT-WORD CHALLENGE sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 3RD
Immutably
the rock rests solemnly reposed,
settled in its venerable vigilant venue.
It silently witnesses the estuary of geo tides
muted in indolent vibrations
crafted from the command of tacit eons
that carve its inevitable formation.
Narrated within stoic calmness,
its testimony is written under the oath of
time, space, wind and weather
without revision or revolution
for this stately sentinel
Locked in the burden of gravity
it erodes and restores its mass dimension
commemorated into the millennia fold.
It whispers a story of intrinsic silent majesty
whittled to eternities sculpture
in the quarry of earth
February 22,2022
Nature catagory
F Form - Free Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Contance La France