Best Technicalities Poems
Mental stretching, the required sacrifice
Addition, subtraction, multiplication and division
To all exercises, these four are the basics
Hell on paper but sweet in its understanding
Equations and formula, serving as raw products
Mastering the existence of numbers to gain its wisdom
Arithmetics also in a graphical representation
Then its technicalities in shapes and planes
Into life's activities, these applications silently integrate
Calculation of numbers and expressions
Sum up all problems via solutions to an answer.
He'd be typing away on his desk
with blueprints for the next big thing,
While I'd be staring off into the azure sky
appreciating the "insignificant" things
You really are a genius
in your field of technicalities,
with which you thoroughly water;
A wife, a place of your own,
and a destination in mind
Me?
You'll find me in the corner
(no not a corner... think rounded edges,
much more safe)
Half past ten, still in bed,
with rolls of cash in a Ziploc bed
(I'm not dealing and I'm sorry if I gave you that
impression... more likely
just a descendant of Scrooge)
Your perfectly organized life
(my just screw it attitude)
Well I must say you are on your way,
but where exactly too?
I solemnly wish
we had, but one thing
in common, dearest brother,
Even with the knowledge
that I wrote this for you
I'm sure deep down
you'd think this quite sappy
And being the person that I am
I'd immediately think of tree metaphors
(now what what rhymes with cedar?)
And being the person you are
you'd probably just go about your day
wondering about the latest Apple product
You live next door
and yet somehow
galaxies came between us,
Practical you gathered sticks and stones
for your shelter here on Earth
(I was too busy daydreaming
on Mars)
From the moment I opened my eyes
and peaked my little head out
from the pool in the backyard,
we were brothers, through and through
... so why do I have this nagging urge
to shake your hand and ask
"Have we met?"
Sad Thought Came To Brain
Found this sad thought on my brain;
Effort to find good priest was in vein;
We pulled off shelf;
Loves hearing self;
Listening to his sermons we refrain.
Sermons priest must be sure to record;
Relationship only casual with the Lord,
And if grim,
Blame them;
Was all that vestry board could afford.
About new priest we have been bitter;
Always wants to be an attention getter;
Voice be heard,
That is absurd;
Only few here we know need babysitter.
Service overburdened with technicalities,
And of life seem to be one of the realities;
When knelt;
Difficult;
Both knees were creating many fatalities.
Jim Horn
A member at Large
Who does embarge.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
You can call up all of my poems at this website locxation.
How pompous we must be to self appoint
To sit in judgement of a gifted peer
Discerning if a writer makes his point
Within the guidelines spelled out loud and clear
In robe of terry-cloth, beneath a lamp
Proofreading poems from our reclining bench
Where technicalities decide a champ
We scrutinize and give them not one inch
And even though we feel we're qualified
To judge a poem, one need not pass a test
We tend to let our conscience be our guide
Then have the gall to say, "this one is best"
There's nothing like a poet with a grudge.
Now ask yourself, to judge or not to judge?
5/2/2021
by Daniel Turner
I’m an All-Star at bottling emotions,
I run around my court dribbling emotions
onto paper. Ball hogging my sensitivities,
no one has ever been able to catch me..
I’m too damn quick.
I’ve sent every nerve that has threatened
to expose itself deep into a dark hole.
Hammered a cross at it’s base labeled
"Eyes only."
The most technical term I could muster.
Most people steer clear of technicalities.
I’m suddenly thinking about Boyle’s law.
I feel like a hooked fish,
being reeled up from deep waters
and I can picture the rushing current
of self doubt passing over me
while you bring me ashore.
I can see your reaction
to my insides protruding
out of my mouth like that
Bass I caught in Conroe.
I just hope you can stand the image.
I’ve never felt a pull so strong.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.
Clouds in the eyes
Mist in the heart
Warmth turned to ice
Dreams turn to sand
Like water in hands
Seeping through fingers
Out of control
The mind a whirlwind of thoughts
Words a tsunami of emotion
Life is not always fair
A myriad of disappointments
Blowing in the winds of despair
To love, to live, to write
Swelling oceans running down cheeks
Dreams a whisper in the wind
Snatched away with technicalities
Withholding what was meant to be
Power play the game
Domineering throwing around weight
A thought positive
Still standing tall above it all
Shining brighter than before
Determined and confident
A ray of sunshine giving hope
Every cloud has a silver lining
Smile in the eyes
Radiance on the face
Patience a true virtue
No holds barred
Victory in sight!
02:03:12
His cards weren't drawn yet he reeked of falsehood
eyes twitching back as he, in the hall, stood
Watching the room, the players at hand
watching and waiting and hatching a plan
As he entered he knew that he couldn't retreat
shuffling...shuffling... His cards and his feet
The faces all watched as he entered the room
their gazes threatening an imminent doom
But the queen would never make his heart break
the king's many diamonds not lure him astray
He learned not to play suits but to play personalities
the various suites were just technicalities
With his tricks almost over, the game almost won...
he was escorted out at the hands of a gun
You see the royalty just won't let you play poker
Not when they find it's at the hands of joker
(GOD Have Mercy)
Technicalities, got our generations
living drastically, its not rational u
see, cops being the worst gang-oops
should i say allegedly, even babies
killing babies, dads acting shady,
moms are going crazy, that's just
not how it's supposed to be, we
supposed to live righteously, learn
in the church-then reach those in
the streets, no longer shall i be
discrete, ever since His face i
decided to seek, i feel like it's
imperative for me, to spread the
word until they begin to take heed,
listen to what my pastor preach,
then meditate n let God use me to
minister thru poetry, cause our
children are dying slowly, i feel like i
owe Jesus Christ richly, to make Him
known to the ungodly, here me
somebody, if u can't stand the
summer how u going live in hell
remember that's fire that Burns to
the teeth, don't you want to go up
yonder live everlasting peace where
the angels sing, this is a plead to u
from me, i can't save your soul-but
my sister's n brother's I Pray on
your soul GOD Have Mercy!
You want a poem my dear damsel
abruptly I start this off beat for you still
after all these illustrious years
turn my heart into a robotic puppy
I curl up next to your feet wanting to be petted
to be warmed, to be loved
you neither kick nor scream or show affection
there you sit upon your throne
an elegant, graceful queen
busy up to your knees in royal technicalities
when you'd rather be out on a boat
in open water, going 80 mph
the sun setting with the wind in your hair
a majestic view for a cool calm day
to forget the stress, the decay of the mess
attacking the doorsteps of your inner fortress
You want a poem my tangled heroine
upon a knee I'd give you a ring
for a fairytale dream to make believe
twirl your hair once upon a finger
as your small pink lips present a smile
the sun would be jealous of
for you bright up the night, the day
you bright up my world, what else could I possibly say
you're amazing
there's not a star in the sky I haven't wished upon
to let you here me say
I'm here for you always
You want a poem, is that what you said precious Scarlett
do you want an array of calculated words to describe your beauty
or is that a cliche I should put away for a rainy day
Would you like a careful depicted letter of how I missed you
your whimsical laugh, your spontaneous demeanor
or to put it simply the blessing of your presence
Answer me this, I beg of you, I ask of you
would you permit this night
a carefully construed romantic pledge I'd cascade into your everglades
a visual portrait to appease the goddess in your eyes
or would you just be comfortable with a silent movie
filled with mystic lullabies, no goodbyes, long sighs
a hug for old times
My dear love kiss me swiftly, sweetly, strongly, would you please
I've missed the way your eyes used to stare at me, glare at me
miles and miles, right?
I could channel my inner Beatles, grow a strawberry field
tell the whole world that we've met
ever since I've met you I've been fallen
and I just let it be
the only words of wisdom I could muster
let it be
You wanted a poem my pretty damsel, my dear Scarlett
you wanted a poem dear love
I want a victory, tell me do you miss me?
You wanted a poem fair lass
can we make at least this night last
You wanted a poem beautiful one
you are my only tangled heroine
You wanted a poem graceful queen
does this suffice?
The battle rages on between the
Titans of technicalities backed by the Grammar Nazis and the
free thinking artist of Middle English teamed with the Imps of invention.
Five seven five, stings like a hive. Artists express because they’re alive.
Haikus can’t rhyme? They do for me all the time.
Explosive new ideas cause fear and so Grammar Nazis jeer.
Arsenals of critiques on both sides mount, as we war over the very count.
The boring masses blindly follow. Dictated rules, they suck up and swallow.
As the battle for middle English rages on I cuddle up in my cell awaiting my forced insertion
in the army of the boring masses.
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
Trapped 'tween
adjectives' objections
succumbed to
long-windedness,
snared 'neath an
expanse of circumlocution,
paraphrasing periphrases
buried under layers
of infused technicalities,
all in a day's multiformity
working midst the sublimity
of poetry's madness
getting away from here
i will be much sweeter when we get there
right now all the stinky stuff is causing my mind to become totally oblivious
getting away from here
i will be easier to put up with as the miles evaporate
right now all the stifling stress is causing my mind to become very vulnerable
then there are the memories of dog food and cleaning products
then there are the thoughts of goodbye waves and pleasant trip expressions
then there are the images of blueprints to actualities and technicalities
the roads that i traveled were reasons why i am behind this wheel
somehow it has made me a better person with matured common sense
the scars within the memories remind me of what could happen again if i do....
getting away from here
i now begin to see light
the sunshine winks at me through the clouds and breaks free to smile at me before clocking in
totally cleansed am i of repetitious reflections unnecessary and unneeded
i turn into a scene in the new chapter of my new movement
it feels so wonderful to actually have a turn
now it is that 'in addition' that i desire and yearn....AND I JUST FOUND A PARKING SPOT!
Does anything even have a meaning?
What are we fighting for here in this town?
What's changed in a year?
And why does it even bother?
Here I am; welcome to me
A semester behind schedule and skating by on strange ice
Am I actually skilled enough to deserve these grades
Or are my professors having mercy on my attempts?
Whizzing by on technicalities
And vomiting out talent when my heart stops holding me back
Am I going to survive in this capitalist wasteland?
Or die with the dregs forever reaching towards the sun?
Victorian castles shrouded in black against an amber sky
Surround a sleepy dirt road with turquoise trees by the wayside
In comfortable chairs with cast iron bars
Everyone I know and love sits enslaved by their brain's chemistry
No hope, no aspirations
As each slaves away for a slave's pay
How do I convince them to live
When I truly see no reason for them, or me, to do so?
Why fear an eternity of blankness?
More importantly, why fear it coming soon?
Compared to endless eons, billions of years
Why bother struggling for another sixty before it takes me anyway?
I've been dead longer than I've been alive
I'll be dead longer than I'll be alive
How am I to convince my friends to live
When I can't even convince myself?
So again I ask, shouting into the inky blackness of the night
Does anything have a meaning beyond what I attach to it?
Does the world truly end with me?
Because I'm a rather poor playwright for that kind of responsibility.
Some kind of celebrity I guess, in print,
faceless at work,
seldom seen at home--
He writes the story of his life and
every chapter is the same; he is the lucky man
who has two jobs and can afford
to lay away his bed and wearily
to plan or hope, some far-off day
to have a good night's sleep.
That is too much to think about
for most of his compadres who
must be content with only possibilities
that all their hungry children might
begin the day with breakfast found
at school, and not enough at home.
Yes, certainly, if you and I
do not insist on voting taxes down.
The little fellow couldn't feel
much love from them, when politicians pool
their picayune philosophies to seal
the voting booths against a fraud
that they alone decide to blame,
and then conspire to make reality.
He doesn't count; he doesn't know
the proper tricks to play the game
He's just a little guy.
He doesn't make much noise.
He doesn't nag you with a presumed power,
or threaten to make you disappear.
He cannot flaunt his intellect
or flout your laws with technicalities.
He doesn't understand
how clothing makes the man.
He's just a less-than-ordinary guy.
Soft upon the earth he walks,
past your bright new car.
But can you tell why the ground,
its insight stored from history,
will tremble there,
beneath his feet?
~
In a place full of technicalities,
And immorality,
Many search for financial immortality,
Few fight feelings of gravity,
Unable to agree with reality,
Another casualty, accepted casually,
Blind faith of causality?
Bad or good,
Yet not so simple,
Sword of shield,
Choice is instrumental,
Black and white, are details,
On track, not derailed,
Subliminal messages make things seem,
But where's the grey area in between?