Best Striving Poems
Simple Man, Just Striving To Have A Simple Soul
There was no great air of mystery about him
tho' kind, too much of his life had been sad and grim.
Truth, he would rather take a beating than tell lies
seeing others in hurt brought tears to his blue eyes.
In his gentle life he sought love and common sense
about his past he spoke with no storied pretense.
Upon waking and giving thanks for each new dawn
he sat on his porch, admiring green of his lawn.
Simple man just striving to have a simple soul
live life in peace, love his family was his goal.
Tho' life once led him down a very darkened path
he wore no hatred and displayed no burning wrath.
I felt his great strength, his kindness bore into me
I sprang from strong, blessed roots, his genetic tree.
Now he has journeyed on to his blessed reward
I have faced this world alone, its been very hard.
On blessed nights he appears to me in my dreams
oft telling me to walk besides cool mountain streams.
Then when things get too hot, step in cool aching feet
Find wisdom to not just foolishness dare repeat.
Have you guessed, this true friend, was my beloved dad
loved me with all his heart even when he was mad.
This my humble tribute, inked in poetic words
he taught life, love, beauty of dawn's sweet singing birds.
R.J. Lindley,
May 26th, 1973
Rhyme, (Tribute To A Great Man, My Father)
Note- ANOTHER OLD POEM , FROM MY PRIVATE JOURNAL.
Written back when I was a young nineteen year old, remembering my father, his death four years prior and wondering would the deep heartache ever stop.
How high the bar that makes a poet Real!
(He walks in mists, and shadows of himself)
To be a poet, is to burn with steel
Set short time in the forge, the lesser self!
He brands his heart with fiery words, set down
And burns his mind with thinking, ‘til it glows,
He hopes, of sonnets, his will be the Crown,
And hopes that all the brilliance of light, shows!
But, oftener, he writes a humble piece,
A few words cramped into a simple form,
But somehow, in his feelings, a release!
Yes, humble-bumble often is the norm.
And that high bar, he reaches seldom, and
Leaves barefoot footprints in the fruity sand.
2/20/2019
Striving for Political Correctness
By Elton Camp
It would just be the end
If by words we do offend.
There’s the devil to be paid
If we call a spade a spade.
“Vertically challenged” means short.
“Horizontally challenged,” a fat sort.
“Nondiscretionary fragrance” means we stink.
“Living impaired” means your’re dead I think.
“Cerebrally challenged” and you are plain dumb.
“Hispanic” and it is Mexico that you come from.
“Niceness deprived” tells that you are mean.
As “oppressor-to-be” a young boy can be seen.
“Follicularly challenged” guys really are bald.
“Gay” is what males who hump men are called.
The “residentially flexible” will live out on the street.
“Nontraditional success” and a poor man you meet.
“Economically maximized” describes one rich.
“Economically marginalized” do live in a ditch.
“Visually challenged” is the blind guy you see.
“Reality challenged” people are crazy as can be.
“Locationally challenged” folks are those lost.
“Unjust self-esteem reduction” criticism’s cost.
A “maintenance portal” is the name for a manhole.
While “sexually dysfunctional” is a perverted soul.
The garbage collector is a “sanitation engineer.”
“Petroleum transfer specialist” pumps gas I fear.
The “termination specialist” other people does kill.
“Body entrepreneur” describes a prostitute if you will.
“Factually unencumbered” are the ignorant folk.
“Alternative answer” means an error was spoke.
If lazy, then we aren’t “motivationally disposed.”
“Discretionary fragrance” and perfume is nosed.
The “chronologically gifted” are just old.
“Rustically inclined” is redneck I’m told.
“Vertically gifted” people describes those who are tall.
“Client of the correctional system” a prisoner we call.
“Cerebrally gifted” people are those who are smart.
Be “metabolically challenged,” and dead thou art.
“Nonwaged” and it is a job you do lack.
“Amorally gifted” and a crook you track.
“Knowledge conveyor” speaks of the teacher.
“Personality repressor” describes the preacher.
With a “conceptual conflict” you are not sure.
The “under-alert” just some sleep will cure.
Now we are expected to play the “correctness” game.
Which means we call almost nothing by its true name.
In keeping with that, you see,
This poem is correct as can be.
You always think on everything bad,
feeling one mistake will cost all you have,
seeing all sides until it’s too late,
if not satisfied then you just wait,
while other men are playing the game,
half as good as you but winning all the same;
when you can seize it at any time,
overthinking things ain’t always wise.
Get the lead out, get the lead out,
get the lead out, get the lead out,
time’s running down, there’s no doubt,
get the lead out, get the lead out.
Get the lead out, get the lead out,
get the lead out, get the lead out,
time’s running down, go seize it now,
get the lead out, get the lead out.
You always think that it’s too much risk,
only a mad man would dare to do this,
you come up with plans for the right time,
only to see all of them pass you by,
Sometimes you must act fast, on the wing,
stop the damn scheming, just shut up and sing,
the world doesn’t wait for any man,
so take your best shot with what’s on hand.
Get the lead out, get the lead out,
get the lead out, get the lead out,
time’s running down, there’s no doubt,
get the lead out, get the lead out.
get the lead out, get the lead out,
get the lead out, get the lead out,
time’s running down, go seize it now,
get the lead out, get the lead out.
Play it for the business,
play it for the fun,
play it for the people
until it’s done.
Sing it for the future,
sing it for the now,
sing it so the people
can hear it loud.
Rock it for the pleasure,
rock it for the fame,
rock it so the whole world
will know your name.
Do it for the glory,
do it for the thrill,
do it now ’cause so many
never will.
Get the lead out, get the lead out,
get the lead out, get the lead out,
time’s running down, there’s no doubt,
get the lead out, get the lead out.
Get the lead out, get the lead out,
get the lead out, get the lead out,
time’s running down, go seize it now,
get the lead out, get the lead out.
V.1 Unlike most she sits in the sun,
and waits for the day when she's finally done, she's just begun,
so alone in the sun she'll sit,
wondering what she did, and why no one will forgive
It's a mystery, Sherlock Holmes, could never solve,
all the clues in a ball, with a broken axis that won't revolve
A puzzle with pieces that don't fit, so it's never solved,
And it slowly evolves, like a phone without a number to call.
She's internally faded, so she sits in her zone, zen mode,
where everything seems to be moving slow-mo,
It's hard to know, fact from fiction, real to fake,
so alone she's gonna sit, while she numbers her ending days,
C. As time goes by the worlds retreats,
we fall down, and pick ourselves up to the beat,
but in the end, you can only choose defeat,
so deny and keep on striving, until you've walked every street.
V.2 He's alone in his space, as he's waiting out the war,
waiting for a sign, an omen, or maybe more
His skins torn, scars are already starting to form,
Stitches keep him together while he sits alone with the Lord
The world's a storm, thunder intimidates and lightning performs,
with his pride up on the shelf, another person is born
His consciousness fades, and his mind can no longer operate,
blacked out, his reactions can barely cooperate
He lost faith, long gone, the road never ends,
bullets are flying but silence is finally sinking in,
But he won't, be taken in, he refuses and he forgives,
he stands up and shoots back, until he finally wins.
C.
V.3 I sit alone in this room, pen in hand,
trying to put thoughts to paper, but the thoughts got up and ran,
What can I do? But sit alone, and think these thoughts
Do I really think I have supporters, I think not
But a gotta pen and a mind, that could be stronger than any nine,
Anybody that wants to step to me, I beat 'em with rhymes
My composure could take an entire army at one time,
and to anybody with a light, I'm the true definition of 'shine'
So don't step to me, you're to low,
the curtains are closed, the show's over go home
I have nothing to prove, cause you already know,
there's nothing you can do to stop me, until you've created a clone
C.
----starting from the buttom-----
When I was born I couldn't spell
A story that I can't even tell
But I bet all I ever completed in my life was to sell
I ate a egg with a shell
A smell I can't forget
I remember it like it was yesterday
Through my darkest days I will find my brightest bays.
Well,success is the song I sing..I'm not here to sin.
Though people think that I'm a sinner I know deep down my soul
that I'm a writer
It felt like
I kept my dreams
My meals was so horrible like a rotten creams...
I sold Everything I sow.....
And the things I saw was terrible
Hoping that my imagination will oneday lead me to my perfection
A slope I cannot elope
But beared What I was told...
My hopes hidden in my pains
And never be ruined when it rained.
People undermine ,people underestimate.
Buh the pride they have will never influence my ride.
Because somewhere in the future I will rise..
Life full of possibilities and responsibilities.
Is almost like I can't do it right.
But I can do it quite Fine.
That is my accomplishments
I knew that life will not be like this forever...
Indeed life is new..
Through my poorest days I found my richest says
But I know when I'm old...
I will hold What I sold
Just because I was told...
That somewhere in the future I will hold
Nothing but Gold.
------Now I'm Here-------
I have a dream of affluence.
Of dripping gold and bread..
To feed the mouths of children
Save the hungry from their dread
I have a hope of heaven.
Where the generous are free
To liberate the captives
Where compassion is the key
It's not the stash I'm after.
It's genuinely not.
My rainbow ends with colours
Not some ever roving pot
I have a dream of fruitfulness
That though my days are few
I hope investing wisely,
Is the thing that I can do.
For wealth is not possessions,
Acquisitions, portfolios or stuff.
It's justice, hope, contentment
It's being just enough
It's sharing and it's caring.
It's not a hand-out spree..
It's never so a spotlight
Lands itself on me
Quietly I'll gather
All the will I can
To be the earthly angel
Out to help my fellow man.
So when the curtain closes
As I'm sure it will one day
Those seeds that have been scattered
Bearing fruit to plant an orchard;
Feed the hungry on their way
Everlasting love enhanced
when we touch in tenderness
simply days just get better
together always.
© Harry J Horsman 2011
Small achievements as a child
Induced dreams that were wild
Anything possible, the world was my oyster
As long as I didn’t blow it
Keeping up with all of the demands that perfection fosters
Not for anyone else, only to give up on myself
Long years raced by and my craft was honed
Discipline and unwavering expectations
Fabricated into my life all the way down to my bones
Constant diligence to doing the right thing
Always the apt pupil, producing results
Never letting my heart fly or sing
Carefully hiding all of my faults
Didn’t stop after school
This sort of constricted life had become the rule
Miraculously the backdrop and props held up
Beautiful restriction of self awareness
I did what others expected in order to keep it up
Not knowing inside that parts of me were restless
Later, the mold started to crack and shake
My mind was bending and starting to break
Harder to hide behind, the person I had created became ill
Was I sick too, or just my façade?
Each action was questioned with each additional pill
Turned inside out, every thought seemed foreign and odd
I watched from inside as I fell apart
Aware eventually that my life was a lie
Massive amounts of unachievable dreams, like cast away toys
False sense of achievement, trying to reach the sky
I will never be perfect
Why didn’t I tell myself sooner?
How limited the page by set of sail…
I cannot come to you except, I tack,
I sail into the wind, the ropes all wail…
You’ve crossed the sea, now, and cannot come back.
Thus, Time blows in my face, bids me return,
And, there behind, a Fisherman hooks me…
The Sun, too bright, is sure my face to burn,
And all my grief is not enough to free
Me from the Veils that roundabout me swirl,
That hide you from my searching, test my mind,
To THINK! I’m rapt, and wrecked, over a girl…
The One I Married, who left me behind
To fly into the Sun with wings of wax,
And Orioles greet… I greet the ocean’s wracks…
I know that now I can go on I can look to the heavens and see the light is shining from above.
The creator is showering me with his love he is pouring his all so that I can be comforted.
No longer will I feel alone no longer will I have to shed tears that are not seen.
The sun is glowing unto my heart for the Creator and me shall not be apart for he is with me.
His aroma is sweeter than any rose that was grown on the earth.
His presence his greater than any celebrity or politician.
His melody is sweet music to my ears.
It calms all my fears and carries me through the years.
We felt the joy of the soft mellow breeze, sighing down the hill,
As we lay sprawled beneath a cedar that grew beside a rill.
Shrubs abounded, meadows covered with splashes of daffodil.
One day we'll be wed there where divine nature displayed goodwill.
Bells tolled from our chapel anticipating us with a thrill.
The sun shines on a broken heart
Love struggling not to fade into the dark
The heart thumps trying to change its fate
For the love of the soul to be overcome by hate
The heart strives for the same goal
Struggling to be loved by the same girl
The body forcing new physical output
Thinking she'll fall in love with a more muscular look
Soon the heart will again try love
Forcing the body to talk to that sweet lady
It strives and struggles for love
But still the girl acts so shady
ivy twirls
grateful
clings to trees
as God* nurtures
in reaching
top spot
1Chronicles 29:13 Now therefore, our God, we thank thee, and praise thy glorious name.
March 20, 2021
1st place, "Let's Get Creative With Haiku" Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 3/22/2021.
Striving Onward…
Cascading meandering rivers
flow toward destination.
Drunken promises—
painful hangovers
of political rain checks.
Lingering dreams—
unforgotten nightmares
teasing hope.
Every u-turn
is not necessarily
a change in destination.
Meander if we will; but
must purpose.
Bewildered
Bleeding
Blind justice
holds her waning breath
A tortuous journey
yet flows towards destination.