Best Unconvincing Poems
I am an afterthought,
Unnecessary to the plot.
A seed so frail,
Poured out an empty pail.
Like a weed I grow,
My roots running shallow.
Look in envy,
At these walls so empty.
Just something to bring a smile,
But only last a while,
Then go away,
Before you stray,
Into that unconvincing truth,
Away from youth.
A mirror knows,
Not what it shows,
But wonders all the same.
Could it be,
That what I see,
Is still unknown,
Not imagination overblown.
I look into myself,
And see an empty shelf,
Of empty frames;
Dreams I cannot claim.
I cannot fill,
But cannot be still.
Against myself I rage,
With every single empty page.
A template incomplete,
Still supposed to compete,
Against their highs and lows,
And heaven only knows,
The dream I cannot claim.
The rules may not apply,
But not because I’m sly.
I did not come to play,
Yet here I have to stay.
You tell me its unfair,
But politely lend a chair,
For me to sit and wait,
Careful not to complain.
Yes, regretfully stare,
At your lended chair,
Shake your head,
At this undeveloped head.
Call me a martyr,
I’m not trying harder.
Call me a tyrant,
My screams are silent,
For I have suffered nothing.
Lord I just want to write a poem for you
because I love you so much
You have been with me through so many things
So many things that go on you have helped me pushed through like a glorious soldier
You have been so patient
So many times I was mad at you
calling you names - names that you don't deserve
But you never get mad
You carefully craft out ways to give it to me
You let me see things the way you see it
So patiently so majestically you guide me
You could have said "I am through with you" but you didn't
You could have run and say "I'd never see you again" but you stay the course
Why are You like that?
Don't you know that I hated you?
Don't you know that I did not care?
Why You care?
Anyway, your work does wonder
I still am the headstrong person
I still am the unconvincing head
But You got me
I love you in spite of myself
I love you no matter what you did
So don't do bad things, okay?
I love you running up and down
inside and upside
Wild and restrained
Up and down
I love you Lord
All the gym's a stage
And all the pale boys merely players;
Unconvincing ones, too.
At the theatre entrance
I part with pride
For a curious form of Vaudeville.
The maxims of inertia invert.
No longer are the masters
Of the ruling class.
To make up for their deficit,
They perform:
Cackle, strut, and prance disgustingly,
Strive insensitively to sound “street,”
To be street.
(Street actors.)
It must be black magic
To float over concrete,
To steer balls
Into circles.
Audience: the girls and I,
But especially
The dark magicians themselves,
Who either sponsor their imitators,
Or disapprove and sneer.
Cheated of my cash again,
I hurry backstage
And recognize the actors
Without their costumes,
Sporting familiarity: Hollister, Jansport, Abercrombie.
The bell rings; they exit;
The shoe polish
Washes off their faces;
They morph
Into rich white boys
Once more.
No one who lives in him keeps on sinning.
No one who continues to sin has either seen him or known him.
1John 3:6
Some people in the world can claim to know
Christ Jesus while they don't know Him.
If Devil is a Liar and the father of lies
I can doubt when a liar claims
he " she " doesn't know Devil.
As Jesus is the Truth,
It is unconvincing when a liar claims
to know Christ Jesus.
Don' t be surprised when a person hears some truths
and puffs up automatically like a big balloon
and thinking to become a goon
to bump off a true person
just because he " she" is not ready
to vomit poisoned food
which he "she " swallowed
and being stuck
in his " her" belly
Like a foetus that is growing daily.
If someone continues doing wrong things
He" she " doesn't know Christ Jesus,
No matter his " her" colour skin or ethnic group.
Some people claim to know Christ Jesus
while they are secret murders, killers , Satanists,
witches, wizards, hypocrites , haters , and liars.
Some people still have chance to repent their sins
and welcome the Lord Christ Jesus in their lives.
I know that some folks refused to change their wrong ways due some worldly interests.
I won't stop helping them to come out of the snare of devil.
The scripture tells us more about some folks
who think to be Christ's followers
that will be rejected on Judgement day.
Remember that some guys carry
the bible for funny
And others for glory.
“Maybe” the doctor said
to the bald girl laying in bed
Her eyes widened in surprise
“Maybe yes?” she sighs
The doctor has already left the room
So the girl is alone to assume
The small boy asks “ice cream after lunch?”
His mother shrugs and he has a hunch
“Maybe yes?”he whispers quietly
The mother nods with invisible anxiety
The boy screams with great thrill
but the mother turns pale and sits still
remembering the maybes her daughter used to say
before she left and went away
The mother hears a car pull up
The father walks in, He mouths “Bankrupt.”
they both glance at the small boy
Who is alone is his joy
The parents quietly converse
The boy knows he will get no dessert
A older girl sits bored in bed
Her phone vibrates and she instantly dreads
She picks it up, glances at the screen
drops it on the floor and silently screams
she dials the number, fingers shaking
tears seep from eyes, heart aching
The familiar voice from the other side of the line
says that everything is going to be alright
The older girl moans “I'm supposed to be helping you”
The younger girl says wisely “You can do that too.”
They talk for hours about everything ahead
They say a quick “Goodbye” for the battery is dead
She makes one last call
Inquiring if she can visit the hospital
“Maybe” the man says unconvincing
“Maybe yes, maybe no?” she questions, wincing
She hears the beep as the phone goes dead
She is pained by what went unsaid
At six she hears a knock at the door
She opens it, he says “Any more?”
Shakes her head no, offers a feeble excuse
He shrugs, his dark hair loose
She walks to the car, pulls open the door
And is greeted by a family of four
The family will visit later in the day
small boy, worried mom and dad without pay
They journey to their heart's base
it takes a short time in such a small place
The older girl bursts into the room
The younger girl tells her “I'm maybe headed to my doom.”
The older girl lets her fears show
“Maybe yes, Maybe no?”
A shadow crosses the small girl’s face
Maybe… is the dictionary's disgrace
I can’t do this today
Peering through dirty windows at citizens disappearing
Behind shells made of unconvincing paper
Masking unspoken fears, unshaven faces
Unrealized hope
As I sip on day old coffee
Listening to church bells ring meaningless summons
And politicians competing to weave the biggest lies
As the forgotten ones stand in lines separated by social space
To acquire food with borrowed money on borrowed time
From vendors looted the night before
Under the glow of torched cars, flaming buildings, and burnt down lives that don’t matter
Streets filled with hate for brothers and sisters
Whose skin is darker, whiter, different
I can’t do this again
Sitting hour after hour
Watching, waiting
Alone
Behind broken memories
Wondering where you are
Everywhere I look
You are not there
I can’t do this
alone
Old man, I resemble you in inversions
With your palace plucked from
A ninth cloud and dragged as
An infant's relentless screech
Crying inevitably for attention
And contributing nothing save slavery
I would dine upon it
How I killed God and pulled the next
Kingdom into palace gates
How envious they would be!
Smuggled into a devil gorge and starving into pieces
It is like lilac, calming but altogether unconvincing
I would fall to my hands and knees
Digging a perplexion of graves within rock bottom
Swallowing the communion wafer of a bullet
My blood, a revolution
And my shattered bones consumed.
I know it's highly unconvincing, Mrs Blackwell;
an unimaginable storyline no doubt.
In all your years of teaching science at St Hilda's
you must have thought our wild excuses would run out.
I know you'll calculate with ease my fabrication
but hope my alibi will raise a passing smile
for even scientific minds abrim with logic
can set imagination free once in a while.
And so to tell it in a nutshell Mrs Blackwell
last night a swarm of flying reptiles hit the town
and gazing upwards with increasing consternation
I noticed one was breaking rank and swooping down.
Then with a thud it landed right outside my window
its sturdy beak began to smash through my defence
I had to pinch myself to check I wasn't dreaming
for such Jurassic visions counter common sense.
And then the flaming pterodactyl ate my homework
and Mrs Blackwell, I do hope you'll understand
that when a flying reptile lands inside your bedroom
events will rarely go as smoothly as you'd planned!
10.02.21
...And Then A Flaming Pterodactyl Ate My Homework Poetry Contest
Sponsor : John Lawless
If i ever said i'm over you i lied.
If i ever said i didn't care i lied.
For what shines today does forever.
And you shine brighter each day relentlessly.
We met in an unconvincing way,
And for the first time my words were trapped
And my face beamed with an unsual smile.
You were and still are the spark to my intuition.
I might not be the guy with words,
I might not be as gentlemanly as them,
Or have all you might need in a man,
Nor with a better game than my fellow admirers.
I don't know the right words to make you see that every image of you runs my imagination wild
And your face deciphers all secrets to my stonecold heart.
It might be difficult to express all the love i have and want to give,
For your walls are so high to be climbed by my crippled words.
Even if they did, it might be too late
For the race for your heart is not only mine to run.
I am a little bit unsteady
But my constant personality shift has nothing on you.
I can't promise a constant love even if we are together someday.
For my untamed feelings keep going rogue.
Though i fall in love a bit with someone new everyday.
The Love i have for you cannot be encapsulated in these words .
I love you and no matter how long it takes
I won't let you go!
Though i have always tried to blind myself from you
I'm always falling with my eyes closed.
Hope we be together someday
If only my words could convince you
of your beauty, so deeply that you'd
no longer seek the validation of your
longtime, warped, fickle friend
She, whose capricious counsel you
seek to confirm those fears of yours
that always tease and taunt you
when you're in her company
But alas, I am merely the beholder
and you are not beholden to me
or my words, no matter how I
long for it to be so
Those glass and silver eyes
will always refute the pictures
that I paint of you in the light of love
with the palette of perfect sight
Unconvincing words
is what I hear...
and need, not want
keeps bursting out
of your pathetic thoughts;
all is gone so sore!
A fobidden thought,
not spoken for your own sake,
what you hide is plain and clear;
when that voice starts shaking,
and those eyes start rolling:
I lose faith in everything you say,
look at me, and be as true as yesterday!
Have I ever kept a secret, or been insincere?
Sympathy wouldn't be in me today,
unless you revealed that forbidden thought!
Secrets can cause doubts,
enought to destroy trust and confidence;
are you still hanging on pretense?
Go beyond the storm and foresee
things that can't ever been seen;
put it all to rest ...it's your last chance!
A forbidden thought
locked inside so shamefully
is another reason to fear truth;
being so untrue and silent
doesn't make easier for me
to forgive you like I would like toI
A forbidden thought
lingering on unspoken lips
makes me sad and wonder why
it seems hard to face
the consequence of a lie...
when all you have to do is apologize!
A forbdden thought so unspoken,
never sheds light on anything too foregone;
something lost to time that only love can
bring back from its deep darkness!
A forbidden thought follows a gloomy dawn,
afraid that the silence will find a voice!
Inevitably, soon it would be upon us.
Its arrival was imminent.
As I assessed the situation,
preparing for its appearance,
I simultaneously continued to spew inane words from my mouth,
and feigned interest in the inane words being spewed from hers.
It was lurking nearby.
It could pounce upon us at any moment.
At the end of the next joke.
Following the unconvincing laugh.
Prior to the changeover to the next random, mundane topic of conversation.
I could smell its presence.
I could sense its whereabouts.
As I adjusted myself to prepare for its arrival,
I wondered if her adjustments were in like kind,
or to position her for a defensive maneuver.
Still, I was not sure.
Then it was here.
Silence beyond compare.
Eyes looking into hers, and then away.
Catching her eyes looking into mine, and then away.
Just as sure as I was about its arrival,
I was equally sure of its soon departure.
But in what manner would it leave us?
Through the start of the next boring topic?
Through simultaneous, confused laughter?
By her announcing it is time to go?
Or, … by our first kiss?
Oh, how I hate
and yet, live for … the pause.
To have a repenting heart
which is changed by flowing kindness,
you earnestly need to pray,
and I pray,while others rebel...
ejecting bitterness from their harsh words;
and as sinful as they are: they still
like to be praised for their formidable might:
to mock,to insult,and deride in an harmful way!
I pray, while others rebel...
demanding an act of veneration;
nothing that exposes conviction,
or liberation from libel!
They continue to look right and holy,
but underneath they cringe...
plotting against the will of God,
bending their ways to fit their habits;
an iron bar will bend 'till it melts
from the intense heat...and so will they!
I pray...while they rebel,
and set their mind on revenge...
their unconvincing glow seems strange;
do I have to resemble them in heart and mind,
speak in the same voice unti I reach Hell?
Haven't they noticed that I'm listening to another sound?
Santa arrived on our street yesterday
spewing considerable exhaust
while riding atop a parade of firetrucks and vans,
floodlit like a nativity display at night,
full sirens and blaring Christmas carols
competing for my Fetal Alcohol daughter's rapt attention.
Santa rolls at stately parade pace,
while ever more impatiently
my troubled daughter jumps and eagerly awaits to pounce.
For me,
much too soon
Santa spots her leaning out our screen door,
disembarks with great royal dignitary pace
to walk the long quest for prey
on our front porch.
As I feared,
after an unconvincing HoHoHo?,
without waiting for introductions,
Santa goes straight to his task at hand:
What do you want for Christmas, little girl?
I don't know
Haven't thought about it.
I'm sure it's not a stinky and loud Santa parade.
Anyway, I'm still working on what I'm giving for Christmas.
That's awesome.
I don't hear a lot of that.
It's not awesome!
It's complicated!
My dad said I should only give gifts that by giving them
I will also receive gifts.
I'm not sure I have any gifts like that.
Last year you asked for an American Girl doll.
Yes, but this year I'm working on giving American Princess me,
instead of settling for your plastic dolls.
Won't you need costuming and make-up
to become the All American princess?
You would think so,
but my dad says they don't meet his gift-it-forward rule
to recycle and receive back.
So what do you think you're going to get,
or give,
or both, I guess?
although diesel-fueled Santa's feeling red
about green co-redemptive gifts,
and I do still have far to go.
And you left your truck idling.
I'm leaning toward kindness,
'cause princesses are always kind,
but my dad is asking for greater wisdom,
which is something he actually does need.
And I know you don't have any to offer
or you wouldn't begin and end Christmas
by asking people what they want,
instead of asking us what we have to give
that might make life feel a little less snarky
come New Year's Day,
while your truck continues to stink up the neighborhood.
Santa returned to his royal red firetruck
somewhat faster than he had arrived
on my wise American princess daughter's
green front porch.
An old sweetheart of mine never believed
in daytime dreams, because they shattered
quickly and shaking her unconvinced head
silly words came out of her mouth admitting,
" Aren't fantasies unrealistic dreams...
when they appear more tempting
then a cake with irresistible frosting?
And while she cut it with careful fingers,
" The outside tasted very sweet,
but the inside looked kind of hard;
its whipped cream was soft and white,
its filling was solid and not much inviting! "
It's worse than a thriller too unconvincing and trite,
although to the novice novelist the tragic plot
appeared to be real with the small-minded bigot.
Comparing fantasies to a decorated cake
is a huge and unforgivable mistake,
the ingredients look fine and exquisite;
but who garnishes it may lack artistry
and gastronomic skills to create an extraordinary
delight not applauded by someone who's inquisitive
about what went into it before baking it,
and laying it down on the table it looks perfect.
Are we still pursuing hallucinating fantasies
that weave themselves into allusive dreams
that make others notice how disappointing
they are having put all our trust in them?
Is this an end to dreaming coming to grips
with a stark and naked reality never being
challenged by a mindless dreamer who causes an ahem
not realizing that he's in a dire state of optical illusions...
instead of being persuaded that nobody ever wins.