Best Stoppage Poems
Free Verse
I live not far from humankind the cradle that is of
what and where we are all coming from Johannesburg
so they say and going to one human race of every colour
no need for power domination colonializing margins
The ‘dark continent’ where the ‘savages’ did not abide
by our expectations of what civilized should be and mean
where it was us the other 'othering' cannibalizing our flesh
of freedom dignity compassion lost in money mind and soul
My cradle rocks and sways in the wild gentle winds in
torrents of emotion mood reflection history anticipation
certain of uncertainty of what the intermingling retrospective
past and future web together like a tapestry of life a bricolage
Lost threads there are and double knitted faults and hollows
shallow worn out spins and spiral knots and missing patches
mended winding fabric scars and wounded oscillations
swings and roundabouts cul-de-sacs and four-way stoppage
Is there a pattern to cradling the moment to memories to
fantasies of rooted wings and flapping roots a human kind
of compass joining needles implements of mass construction
subjective individual shining lights and armour idiosyncratic beauty
Are we starving demising suffocating for self-righteousness
loosing the plot and all the marbles thrown high up in the
air with juggled balls we aim to fix the waters rivers flowing
on their own with push and pull of light and lighted gravitation
Just here and now not there and then when sunshine rises
where rainbows glitter melt and wax the wane all of the colours
into violet prisms focussing condensing refracting blinding darkness
understanding knowledge of the shadows and bright clarity
When I write some thoughts on paper on the screen of modern
techniques and ancient art of crafted words and scripted meaning
the cradling of the moment takes its paths of where I’ve started off
and might be going once and only when the moment passes
02nd July 2016 written in Johannesburg and everywhere
It was in eighteen eighty-six in the streets of Chicago,
where the greatest miscarriage of justice people would know
transpired in an infamous labor-police rendezvous.
Albert Parsons led eighty thousand people on revue.
The strikers marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue.
The Knights of Labor were sponsors for the work stoppage venue.
Demands for shorter work hours and no child labor were made.
This would be regarded as the world’s first May Day parade.
Thousands nationwide would join in with the activities
In the next few days, the striking workers stopped whole industries.
On the third, some strikers and police engaged in melees.
These actions resulted in two ill-fated fatalities.
The struggles also caused some severe hideous injuries.
The fights took place at the McCormick Harvester Company.
Many held the police for murderous culpability.
Organizers from the Knights of Labor held a mass rally
at the Haymarket in Chicago’s West Loop vicinity.
They would assemble there in the early part of May.
Thousands crowded there peacefully on the month’s fourth day.
Leaflets were passed noting the police for murder to the crowd
as anarchists urged the mobs to join forces and shout aloud.
A bomb thrown at the police catalyzed an altercation.
One officer was killed and others hurt in the explosion.
Matthias Degan was the officer fallen in duty.
Seven other policemen died later from an injury.
The police opened fire on the people immediately.
At least eleven of the strikers were shot at fatally.
Eight men stood trial for the death of police officer Degan.
They were Parsons, August Spies, George Engel, Samuel Fielden,
Adolf Fischer, Louis Lingg, Michael Schwab, and Oscar Neebe.
All eight were tried and found guilty by a judge and jury.
Neebe got fifteen years; the others got the death penalty.
Schwab and Fielden were commuted to life; then got clemency.
Lingg took his own life before his scheduled execution.
The remaining four men were hanged in public exhibition.
Since then, there have been enacted many labor reform laws
The men who died are considered martyrs to a noble cause.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this
poem.
Its taking Longer than it
seemed;
Harder than I dreamed;
Different from what I
themed;
My heart yearns for its
stoppage;
But life creates its everyday
new page;
My mind is engulfed with
this chronic pain;
And stressed out with
thinking is my brain;
Is this going to last
forever?;
Won't this leave and stay in
my past?;
Question upon Question;
Still I find my self in my
own oblivion;
I should chill now;
As I don't want to shed a
tear;
But I still wait in hope and
fear;
Fear that i'll remain with
this forever;
And hope that my fear
would just be a deceiver;
I wait;
Tweet @SirrVictor
she now knows love
love, not a lifeless thing
that she used to talk about those days
while carrying a backpack
full of books and binders
a mustang she wanted to drive
symbol of success and speed
a perfect blend with boom
and the ooze of black-gold
but today for her
only one thing that matters
living with a man
sharing his failure
to graduate from a high school
that teaches not techniques
to survive that stoppage
of an upward movement
and a free flow of more
her achievement
she carries with care
as if holding the first university degree
that will open the greater door
to a doctorate
to walk around with a prefix
before her name
now she smiles, inside
every time she feels that kick
a little stretching
in that cozy cave
intricately decorated convocation hall
calling him, her baby
while feeling that wall, outside
her boy will soon graduate
to enjoy her love
her success, her own graduation
to that new title – Mum
8/30/16
Plotted
Lines connected no longer dotted
I got it
Took so much more than logic
And being honest
Hard work, pain, sweat, blood and tears is what it costed
From here to beyond the tropics
Near and far from ore deposits
When things rotted
A pungent odor usually wafted
Only so much time we each are alloted
Events intertwined and corresponded
Some of which were ironic
And others occasionally iconic
This universe at no stoppage
Burned so much chronic
Many kinds that were exotic
But not all were catatonic
Drank too much and nodded
Time and money is what it costed
Animals that are exotic
Plenty of which were spotted
Gone but never forgotten
New items each year trying to be ergonomic
Meanwhile people continue to gossip
Class 1 and 2 narcotics
Among new and old electronics
Twenty four seven three sixty five at a rate that is constant
Comets
Space shuttles with rockets
And aircrafts moving at speeds that are super sonic
Traveling in places considered cosmic
Helping others gather data in astronomics
Not all molecules bonded
Is everything technically, gas, liquid, or solid?
Churches built with designs that are gothic
And occupations working with things that are atomic
When relating to things economic
Some just wanted
Only the profit
Even if at the end of the day they were tormented and haunted
By: Dalton Ogletree
Lies lies lies
Easily and swiftly they flow out
And never will they stop
Until the stoppage of life
Like the blood from the jugular
They have no potency
Rather are they independent
But they spread magnanimously
Like the cancerous cells
Their soothing effects
To the heart of the hearer
Great and not unenjoyable
Like the feeling when you diddle
Lies lies lies
They don't reproduce
But they are reproduced
Like a series of overrunning echoes
They are not scary
Rather are they violent
Yet they kick the heart of the bearer
Like a player hits the ball
You don't love them
But when you hear some
You give a warm welcome
Like to a dishy maiden knocking at
your door
Non-energetic as they are
The carry powerful effects
Inciting disparate reactions
Like a refree's decision
You send them the invitation
Even when they should not come
Because they are easy to come by
Like lipstick paints on ladies' lips
two stoppage-time goals
the good the bad the Neymar-
Los Ticos homebound
Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Published 2018 in "2018 World Cup Senryu" via wattpad.com
I bring you a live commentary match between Sin and Grace
Sin are inches away to the box
Lust shots, Self-Control reacts well and blocks
Longsuffering has been fouled at the 18-yard
Pride has been booked, he gets a yellow card
Envy probing for a goal, last week he scored a brace
Sin camping on the edge of Grace
A change for Sin, Lust out for fornication
Game resumes, an untimely clearance by abortion
A lengthy spell of Sin possession
They are playing with so much aggression
Pressure still mounting on Grace
Pride dribbles past a marker and finds space
Anger is booked for pulling Gentleness
A shot! And Truth denies Falseness
And another glorious chanced missed
Envy out for murder on the final substitution list
The minute is ticking away and Grace are standing firm
A long drive by Revelries, a great save by Peace! What a gem!
A handball by goodness at the halfway line
But ref. Mercy says No! She waves play on! Mine! Oh mine!!
Self-Control goes for shoulder-to-shoulder with Anger
And he wins the battle of defender
Oh! Outbursts of wrath as he fires over the bar
Wrath burst forward again and finds murder afar
But Self-Control masterminded that move
What a game he has had! He’s surely improved
Four minutes to stoppage time, a long searching ball to Joy
He shots! And is a goal! Amazing goal!! Oh boy!!!
Sin were exposed, and Joy curled the ball pass Sorrow
Am flabbergasted! For Sin, the road to the final looks narrow
Grace are just a seconds away to the World Crown Final
And it’s all over here! Grace are in the World Crown Final!
An astonishing game! An undeserved victory!
Grace wins by a lone goal and Grace makes history!
What a graceful display from the visitors!
As they vanquished the inquisitors!
What should we say? Should we wallow in sin, so that God's Grace will overflow?
God’s [mercy] forbid! If we are dead to sin and alive in Christ, how can we go on sinning? [Romans 6:1-2: The Poet Preacher’s Version]
Two friends talked over a term
While travelling by a tram
One: What a life in me!
Full with happiness, luxury, satisfaction
Other: Are you happy?
One: No
Other: What a life in me!
Full with miseries, demand, deprivation
One: Are you sad?
Other: No
The talking ended at the desired stoppage
No one was victorious
Both were in confusion
They left the stoppage separately and lonely.
The forty-hour work week
kept same its firm streak,
but aging held a revealing
of different Friday feelings.
Beginning work at eighteen,
Monday became a wait thing,
a crawl to Friday night’s scene
when I was up for any
of mostly everything
with little sleep in between.
Even when newlywed, Friday
eve fun was weekend spread.
Then came baby, mortgage
a freedom shortage,
endless yardage, garbage,
cleaning and laundry bondage –
all with no rules or stoppage.
Friday lost all past flare
as my present life tone
shone it as a day for prayer:
that once I got home
I would be left alone
to merge in silence rare
with my reclining chair.
Jet,
yeas, it is mean clearly full ahead,
helicopter,
well, another oddly iron Robocopter.
But look for dragonfly
for his camouflaged flying
when he chased the flies and mosquitoes
and others supersensitive and artful pilots.
He is moved absolutely disorderedly
and unexplainable,
full ahead and full back
and topsy-torvy,
with instant accelerating
and the same deceleration,
from great speed
to complete stoppage on air
(as a crawling tiger on grasses
when a gout turn to backward) ,
creating fantastic maneuvers and tricks in 3D
of the blissful summers performance
on the edge of lake, hear me,
it’s the figures of greatest pilotages
said practiced aviators
from MIGs, Hornets and Phantoms
and other airs strikers and predators.
This morning as I woke up,
smiling at a new day,
thinking I’m a day older,
I looked forward to another birthday,
but my mind quailed at the aftertaste
before I shared my joy
with friends and kindred:
another day had been taken away,
and my dying day advances!
Out of my window I looked
to find out the cause of the noise therefrom—
Mr. Somebody had bought two more cars:
one for himself; the other, his wife.
And delighted they were,
for now they had six cars altogether!
I shivered at the irony:
their earthly stock had reduced by two!
After my bath,
I made for the living-room.
The sights were eye-friendly: assorted gifts!
Everyone gazed interestedly at my exclusive outfit.
‘’An angel has descended Heaven!’’ they exclaimed.
An ounce of disappointment overtook my face.
All these lots had been withdrawn
from the deposit of my life wealth!
There came the merry-making,
but only I did not have fun.
‘’Are you the odd man out?’’ they asked.
But life as a paradox:
it grows every new day,
and dies every yesterday.
It is an ending game,
awaiting the stoppage time.
Happiness and gloom, interlinked.
When a smile decorates a face,
Other remains sad possessed.
I hate to say, it's like a knot of shoe lace.
At the moment of grateful joy for one,
May be for the other the poorest mode on
Feelings jovial shall be in the room of heart.
And other's will harsh emotional struggle.
You never know what comes next.
Are you fornuate?- stop the torture to self.
For none is destined to be a legend.
Though effortless minds won't get,
What might dynamic barbarians with raids set.
Truly said, Labour never goes in vain.
For patience may be the way,
Every stoppage is either sorrow or gay.
But you move on for destination's sake.
In this life cycle, be you the rider.
And will come an end to this someday.
Until then, live worry less and unafraid.
Let’s engage the minds gauge
Torque the imagination and take it hostage
Gouge the intellect with an over dosage
A ravenous binge
To my brain damage from under usage
Free the soul from bondage
Unburden emotional baggage
Forge a merge of love and rage with courage
Intoxicate paper with ink cartridge
A work of art on a page, a poetic collage
Like a soothing beverage
A poetic rampage on stage
Accumulate knowledge to reduce poundage
Of ignorance and information blockage
And salvage the tarnished image
A cerebral drainage to our disadvantage
Like the last spoken words of a dying language
A cultural power outage, a national outrage
A plague destroying a village
A confidential postage of information leakage
A sabotage of an adulterous marriage
In a society of average
That hemorrhages failure without stoppage
Skills in a shortage
The signage of a corrupt patronage
A camouflage of a failed brokerage
Education a privilege
We can use to salvage
And envisage a future of prestige
Expel garbage from the mind’s storage
Wage war with my conscience and cause this carnage
And ravage until there’s nothing left to salvage
A honesty challenge
Acknowledge my heritage
To retrace my lineage
Success a leverage
To use as excellent anchorage
A long walk of some mileage from a dark age
To pay homage to Mandela an iconic sage
And impart a message
As I indulge you with a poetic massage
Poetry is intended for restlessness,
too much sweetness drives away poetry...
You can be pregnant with ideas,
stocked with what is benefit and write
emotionally without stoppage,
but the unusual metaphor is missing...
to the one that outlines the poetry...
Behold, the singing of joyful countries
it's sad...
The singing of sad countries is content...
There then lies the poetry that reflects
what the soul does not sight...
Poetry is not sympathetic text
in pretty words that appear
always full of emotions... and with
melodramatic sweetness... lack the
high-sounding that the Greeks call Beauty,
when the imagery that materializes the mystery is lacking,
only through metaphor or metonymy,
it subverts the original meaning,
gaining in breadth and beauty...
That and poem with poetry...
The word has to come dressed as a party
the poetry is dressed in the real fantasy
that the figure of speech contains...
Poetry is immaterial...!