Best Truths Poems
Quote By Poet "What I have learned, peacemakers are everything."
My truths shall set me free,
to be the creative person I must be.
Always free to live the life God wants for me,
the life to show Him I do care for Him.
Truth can come in many sizes,
it is all about how we look at our life.
My truth about giving and receiving one's love is priceless,
some things in life one cannot put a price on.
Love in deeds and words are a must,
I will not give out pain.
For that is what this world so freely gives out,
my truth wants to live in peace and kindness daily.
Showing I care for the world,
my truth and Thee shall always be alive.
"Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a dad." — Quote by Anne Geddes.
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I liked to wear new clothes
as a kid I liked things many more
crayons, paper, a doll, a chocolate, pink shoes, ribbons, bangles
I knew not: they were to be bought by money
that money was to be earned,
that my father was poor, that he skipped meals often.
As a kid I just thought my dad was cruel
cruel, as he did not get me things I pointed
He would turn my gaze to something else
distract me with jokes and tales
His roaring laughter drowned my likes and my childish cries
But I never saw his aching heart and unshed tears
I was ten when he died
Forgive me dad, I was a foolish child.
Born of glaciers, rivers flow,
turquoise ice and untouched snow,
deep green valleys far below,
ancient stands of hardwoods grow.
Icy rivers running deep,
through the mountain's midnight sleep,
darkened waters crest and leap,
earthbound secrets rivers keep.
Stoically the mountains stand,
nurturing the age-old land,
born before mere time began,
when Earth was pure, devoid of man.
River rocks were once rough stone,
water-smoothed, by eons honed,
each grain of sand is sand alone,
truths unspoken lie unknown.
Listen to the waters speak,
every river, ocean, creek,
there lie answers all must seek,
flowing from the mountain's peak.
©copyright2009DanielleWhite
“If, to speak my truths, I bleed these syllables, let the wind ferry them to a moon-kissed shore,
for I am a caged rose dreaming in deafening darkness” Quote by Poet
I mourn within an aquamarine aquarium,
drifting like treacherous torrents of the Arctic Ocean,
while my ink, stained with sorrow, floats like splintered sapphires,
serenading the unspoken reality of obscured waves in blistered black.
But if truth were a poem,
woven from bleeding colors of supernova scars draped in stars,
will the calligraphic constellations carve my tale in crystalline cadence?
For I’ve long been fighting currents of chaos in silence,
too reluctant to wade beyond the familiar torment,
as I’ve sealed an eternal curse,
enveloped with macabre metaphors from cold caves of satanic seas.
Now I am the throned rose of darkness, breathing hope~
and faith, to erase scribbled heartaches.
I know one day I’ll reach my shore.
Manna gestures of kindness,
mercy dew
distilled
upon
every eye-opening dawn
Silver deeds of love ~ pure fruits of the Spirit
bring forth
Truths of gold ... Eternity reigns from above
This poem was inspired
by the talented poetess, Besma Riaba Dziri's
transcendent poem, "Blessings"
Nightmare Truths
She hides the truth in nightmare screams,
Refusing to voice fevered dreams,
As moon bent shadows climb the wall,
To bring more demons to her hall.
Those who know her will see no tears,
She locks them away—shows no fears,
Fights her scars in silence alone,
Growing harder her heart of stone.
At the station Paton stares at me from the train bound for Johannesburg
He leaves a note to remember to mop up where the roof leaks
This is after the British take Achebe and I's gods away
before sitting back down on their buttocks
When I take their son in Taylor draws my black skin being thrashed by the wind
I feel the kid burying me before the ship comes
I resurrect, thanking Wendt for at least some power and glory
before stupid maggots come and eat up my winnings
Orwell hires me to feed his pigs when I'm broke
I want to kill them when they stand up on two legs and talk back to me
Smith and I meet at Catholic school and ditch Boys' Club together
His brother catches him and I hide across the street as he gets a beating
I run into Fitzsimmons who's looking for Les Darcy
I tell him, 'I'm not his girl, go ask Winnie where he went'
They make Ihimaera and I run errands at the family gathering
I tell myself we're either cousins or enemies: don't fall for him
That same night Huxley and I get high on soma
He passes out on the beach and I run back home to sleep it off
The stabbing wakes me up in time to tell Selby to go tahell
He gets up in my face and tells me plainly to be honest with myself
It's strange after that...just me and Bukowski waiting for a bus
He puts up with me and I fall in love with the pungent smell of him.
I love all things in nature.
My passions are plants, gardening and bird watching.
I also enjoy good mystery books or television thriller series.
I love to collect old clocks, art and whimsical antiques.
My home is my peaceful sanctuary.
I am often oversensitive and can feel other people’s pain.
Clairvoyance and empathy are gifts I bestow, but often ignore.
I enjoy being creative and busy, it soothes my mind.
I love to cook and follow new recipes.
I have a huge, sweet tooth!
Luckily, I really like to exercise and take daily walks.
I don’t believe in organized religion, only a higher power.
Spirituality based and all things unexplained;
these are my life beliefs and soulful truths.
Leaves of Lilith, fall like butterflies
as I slither in souls, secluded by time ~
where treacherous tulips still mourn the death of magnolia moon,
hidden within scentless sepals, which couldn't be their evergreen anchor...
Hear the echoes of grieving dawn,
whose tamed scars forgot to unfurl my truths beyond memories ~
scripting me like misplaced intuition, surfing on those whispering waves,
for I've always blossomed upon heartaches, in gardens of metaphors ~
hibernating as the turmeric taste of melting sun...
I'm the untouched ink of sin ~
swirling across silver patience ebbing along the starlit peacock-golds,
where daffodil dryads throb in ancient dyes and I'm caramelised...
above sonnets soaked in skeletal promises,
my reason rests within wisdom, an ageless mirage...
Falling down to my splintering knees,
Heaven or Hell, the stone will be cast.
Like whiplash, the ground beneath me begins to crack open
As my truth is played out against an apocalyptic backdrop.
Sins weighed against my empathic
compassion,
Caught in riptides of my darkness; will light save me?
Flames lick against my flesh as the vultures circle around.
Pleading to the heavens, I swear my truths are sincere.
I pushed back against those incessant inner
demons
As they flirted with the devil.
But my sanity assimilated, and I plunged down that pit.
Sins took hold, infecting, infesting; the damage that
was already done.
I plead for your unconditional mercy:
Don’t let the razor teeth tear me apart.
Today they believed the lies
the distorted truths… the accusations… and wrong-doing cries
the created fabrications which are easy to consume
conceptualizations and distortions… abundant and abloom.
Responsibility once assumed… but now rarely seen
reality now falsified… made convoluted… and obscene.
And the beat goes on….
as the mind is twisted
like that character… on Prodigal Son.
And while these false narratives appear
which the perpetrator wishes that all will embrace
the ego desperately asserts and manipulates
loyalty and trust is what it requires, and necessitates
but the soul is slaughtered… beaten… and no where to be found
and truth is tossed… lost… by perplexing theories which abound
while delusion….
leaves nothing but despair and mind confusion.
And life goes on….
the mind twisted
like that character… on Prodigal Son.
The oldest voices whisper below the ground.
Hands pull on roots — wind-beaten, gnarled —
stories woven through the fabric of time.
Bark peeled slick, leaves flattened,
the wisdom of what makes whole lies
between finger and thumb,
passed along like a flame, a prayer.
But the soil only knows part of the story.
The other half lives in breath,
a noise wafting through the room —
a voice wrapping itself around the injured,
knitting them back into themselves,
as if words alone could summon strength,
draw poison from blood.
And when the breath becomes thin,
when there’s no salve to ease the pain,
there is no anger here.
Only the stillness of understanding:
death is on the far side of the cure.
I sit in state of wonder
as my mind does ponder
over thoughts
which compared to thought are fonder
than t' prefer that thoughts no longer
would linger and finger about the essence
Of reality's encompassing presence
While'st I stare through care
To do all that I may dare
To alter all to do what in our minds is fair
as we find fair left behind
and that care is lost in time
all the point is lost in rhyme
the rhyme however is not a loss of point
infact the joint of with without
means no existance without could be
with and out of sencerity
and doubt begins to fade
the truth of lie has been made
we work with what we know
to let the spirit go and see our "destiny"
to come and no winds blow
o'r our path to let world show
that arrow follows path of bow
and further will the spirit go
with than without the firing bow
and string which wrings and sings
and begins to bring the thought to action
and begins the unaction of the unthought thought
as becomes what is now not and once what was
is only thought which stays unthought and reality's reality soon will rot
to grow the truth of lies and death
and life's cycle is now at best
when all is equal, leaving end and sequal
I am not a perfect girl,
and so often I fail with the truth;
I thrive for sincerity, honesty, integrity, openness and for genuineness,
and know what my wisdom gathered says about being truthful
And I know right and wrong,
I know what I have read in the Bible scriptures;
but sometimes I have lied to protect another persons soul.
Have said that I didn't cry when I definitely did,
denied my biggest fear and deep hidden secrets;
and the life mistakes- I made.
Yes, a thing is either true or it is not.
but my spiritual self and soul wavers on this often;
for sometimes the truth is hurtful
like when my mother asked- Will I die ?
____________________
July 7, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/My Truths Denied
Copyright Protected, ID 07-1359-320-07
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Once More I Failed The Truth
sponsor, Kai Michael Neumann, Judged 07/28/2021
Some truths better to be administered like medicine--in the right dose and at the right time!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
06 August 2017
* If an everyday truth causes more harm than good better it is for us to be mindful.