Best Uneducated Poems
Sinister intentions are met with solitude
A ghastly grin greets the grimy windows
And who knows where the words will begin
But we all know they'll end in some awful rhyme
So forced and juvenile we'll be shaking our heads
And clucking our teeth in frustration
At the pretentiousness of it all
And for every tower a writer builds
He feels he'll never fall from his bloated heights
Where he looks down
And sees those far more talented than he
Perhaps this fills him with anger
A seething heat that boils his blood
Or maybe he seeks opportunity in the words of the wise
And begins the ungraceful fall off his perch
Perhaps one is lost in some misguided arrogance
Even as they reject the notion of possessing skill
And there is a fleeting moment before hitting the ground
Where the writer should realize his place
He's nothing more than a mere mortal
And his fatal flaw is believing in his written word
And believing that such an unpracticed poet
Could stand next to the likes of Poe
For he is a walking fallacy
So conceited in his desire to write
That he often abandons the written word
Believing the words will come when they come
And until then his thoughts will languish
As he sucks the fruits of yesterday's labor
He's nothing more than a glorified failure
Who never amounted to anything more
Than a seething high school bleeding heart
With words that followed no form
With stanzas that rejected common sense
With cliche tacked on to cliche
With aspirations of grandeur
He's just the feeding fodder
For those who give him the mercy
Of observing his written word
And giving him a reluctant pat on the back
Even while preparing the guillotine
The truth is that he is a masochist
Sifting through painful verse time and again
Hoping that something will stick
Just hoping he'll find the words
When all too often they reject him
For deep down he is truly ambitious
But he has no dedication to the craft
His pen is a half a stroke away from retirement
Belts, paddles, switches, and rulers were once instruments of punishment.
Although very rarely, in my early years, a belt was Daddy's favorite.
I was always a quick learner and never a glutton for punishment.
Some believe that both the home and the schools presently bear the
results of unwisely changing the rules with regard to curtailing
bad behavior. Others think, 'Good riddance'. Others call for balance.
When corporal punishment of kids was applied and acceptable,
whether handed down at home or in school, there were always
those who never seemed to be persuaded to alter their behavior.
As a result, punishment was repeated whether proper or not.
Neither the applier nor the recipient ever learned any lesson.
However, there would be tears, sometimes by the applier also.
I suspect both learned "To WEEP THE TEARS THAT NEVER LEARN".
Perhaps the misapplied method was bad medicine for Donnie.
Perhaps tenured teacher Miss Peterson wept tears of failure.
It should be noted that life is complicated and gives rise to many
mysteries. Such convoluted mysteries often force us "TO WEEP
THE TEARS THAT NEVER LEARN". As for corporal punishment, I wish.
I wish that it had been abolished when I was a kid. Many troubled kids
turn out to be the best of citizens. And I've observed that many parents
and teachers despise the pain medicine they administer. Need I say More?
I’m an ‘uneducated poet’
I wish I could go back in time
Big words and their meanings, I’d know it
Although I’m well versed in rhyme
Quite simply, the poems that I pen
Composed for the ‘uneducated’ man
I guess not up to the trend
Too easy to understand
So my hat’s off to judges and bards
Who understand what’s ‘written’ or ‘read’
but ‘uneducated’ me finds it hard
to decipher all that was said
Though I may not win any contests
I’ve read winners from finish to start
‘Learned’ poets and ‘unlearned’ at best
What’s written is penned from the heart
Mind limited by my own being in past events,
Uneducated in the reading.
How can I be reached?
Poetry's ears are difficult in the gaining.
O' Lord I fear to miss beauty in the fineness.
Than Goodness from Beyond,
Given Ears of Yours,
Not to pass the journey of fine wine art,
The poetry of true remain.
In this I plead,
Colin Martin bless him in all ways of the pen.
(Enjoyed your writings Colin, they opened me up dearly my friend of poetry)
Have read a lot about rights
give lectures on everything
written theories and practices
framed intricate plans
quote scriptures and ideologies
could be celebrated authors
but look at human relations
measure charity to the needy
In sack cloth and ashes
will be your lamentations
what is clear is dubious
common sense hardly there
rat-cat relationship exists
common problems nightmare
the rest better untold
These uneducated elites
do harvest unrestricted
fruits of their inhumanity
Uneducated Elated
Only Trump supporters were ever elated;
All low lives who are not highly educated;
Subject change,
And re-arrange;
Another distinguished diversion created.
Jim Horn